


Selene

by Pacifia



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Galma (Narnia), Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 79,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pacifia/pseuds/Pacifia
Summary: She's the High Princess of her kingdom. And it's unfortunate for Peter she has her eyes set on him. A story that tries to humanise the deranged villain and understand a psychotic mind. Rated T Plus.
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Lucy Pevensie & Peter Pevensie & Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie & Peter Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie & Susan Pevensie, Peter Pevensie & Original Female Character(s), Peter Pevensie & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

If you've read a previous story, then I should tell you, that contrary to your belief of me, I was not a love-stricken princess. Oh, no, listen before you make assumptions. Allow me to rephrase my words. I was not _hopelessly_ in love with the High King of Narnia. And nor was I a graceful princess with a quiet and poised demeanour. I liked not teas but hunting with my younger brothers. I didn't prefer wearing gowns but my brother's tunics. I never squealed like a child at the sight of something strange and unfathomable to me. I admired it. I admired the dark and black. And I revelled in the golden warmth of the sun. I was tender-hearted despite my unusually frisky and 'boy-like' disposition and that often became the subject of my brothers' jests. I was especially fond of animals. Birds would sing to me. And cats would nuzzle my feet until I finally giggled and picked them up. Dogs barked at the men that dared set their eyes on me. My temperament and my life were drastically different now.

In a span of two days mere, it had all changed. The chain of events that led me here, at my father's command and a puppet of his, swooning over the elder King, is a long one, and it would be a waste of ink to jot it down now.

Peter was doubtlessly the handsomer of the two Kings of Narnia. He was younger than me by two whole years, and it made me nervous. Especially when I tasted his thin lips. It was a boy that answered my gesture, flustered and uncertain of what to do. Had it been someone else, they would have returned the kind kiss. Harshly, fondly, with lust. Yet this boy-king, he was fascinating. Quiet, calm, serene as the waveless sea. He had a warrior's spirit, a King's devious mind. He possessed an extent of love I had not imagined before I met him. I loved my siblings. Enough to die for them. But Peter—Peter would commit crimes greater than himself for his family.

His furiously blue eyes raged with a black pool of anger if one dared threaten any one of his siblings. To stand beside him then, was to feel the fire's heat emit through him. Was to feel something I didn't think existed in this materialistic world. An abstract feeling. Not tangible. Not expressible by others. It was frightening and captivating at the same time. The fear it incited in an evil soul, the white fury slowly scampering on small feet through you, travelling through your nerves until it tackled your heart, and consumed you whole. Only fools dared harm his siblings.

And I, with great regret, was one of those fools.

It began simply. My father ordered his men to capture the young King when I failed to seduce him. I begged and begged to join the men. And he, seeing that I was agile and had more knowledge of this mysterious castle and its vast vicinity, waved his hands and uttered a single affirming word. I joyed over it. Finally, after years of lonesome and tiring rest in the Castle of Galma, I had a mission to fit me.

So, I trekked through the vivid hallways, passing the following gaze of the paintings of elder Kings and Queens, and that Lion! Oh, how he ruffled my soul! Took my peace of mind! His long whiskers extended as I moved forward, trailing the walls with me, as if he knew. Oh, he did know what I was doing. But did it matter? I laughed, pulling out a jeering tongue at him. Wait, Lion, I had said, wait and see what becomes of your High King. Oh, what plans I had for him!

The men hid behind the thick curtains, and the more flexible one managed to stuff himself under the narrow space beneath a table in the corridor when the voices reached me. All four of the rulers laughing and tittering among themselves. I smiled and pretended to admire the illustration of the Lion that had scaled the walls even here. I mocked him with a silent hiss again.

"I say, Peter, are you certain the ladies weren't from Narnia? A different world?" That was Peter's brother. Tongue as sharp as a serpent. The slyest of the group. The cunning mind. But he was a child. A mere seventeen.

" _We_ are from a different world, remember, Ed?" Peter's sweet, juicy voice answered. Oh, how I wish he would talk to me in that voice, not the infuriated one, shaking with mortification.

"I hardly remember it. It's all foggy now," said the Gentle Queen. She was the only woman I had ever envied. Not for her charm and beauty. But her manner. How she brought equilibrium in every person, tense or peaceful.

"Neither do I," replied the youngest Sovereign, the treasure of this Kingdom. "Well, we've searched for them. We've found nothing. It means it is beyond us. I trust in Aslan to solve this mystery, like so many others." She laughed. "But, Peter, do you know who else is a mystery?"

"Who?"

"Well, the Princess Selene, of course! Her father, Tromin, I mean, _King_ Tromin has sent his apologies for her behaviour," she said.

I could imagine Peter's cheeks burn with a rush of red even with my back turned. "She _is_ rather hard to fathom. An enigmatic personality. But Ed has encountered more spoiled Princesses than I." I felt offended. First, I was not a spoiled child who revelled in the riches of her father. I hated the attention royalty gets. And even more, I could not think how my love's younger brother could have girls, let alone princesses of royal houses, swooning after him. His face was freckled and his deathly pallor could drive away even a ghost!

A lengthy yawn echoed out of the room. And then the Gentle spoke, "I think I and Lucy should be off to bed. You two are going to linger, I presume?"

A sharp chink of silver striking silver. "It is not every day you get to revel and drink wine with your favourite brother," said Peter.

"Ahem. I think you mean your _only_ brother?" Edmund said.

"Yes, yes, the same thing!" Peter exclaimed, laughing. Oh, the rush of joy I felt when he laughed, imagining precisely where the shallow dimples fell on his cheeks.

And when the _click-clack_ of boots striking the wooden floor came, I quickly backed. And then pretended as I had been just passing by. The Queens saw me; we exchanged pleasantries, and they were off, giggling with their mouths covered. The brothers were left alone. I listened to their fascinating conversation and laughed when the younger had a racking coughing fit. Peter was already panicking. He put his brother to bed. I waited longer. The moon hung low in the sky. And when the Night Watch began patrolling the Gardens below us, easily seen from the glass windows towering above me, Peter fell asleep in a stiff chair, still holding his sick brother's hand.

And then, I took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is special to me, though based on a prompt - indirectly - it has helped me understand so many things about writing and life in general. If you have an idea of what Selene is like, this is not even the beginning. She only gets worse. And we will be dangling somewhere between a different, Poe-type Horror and angst and brotherly love. I took up two primary challenges with this story:
> 
> **1) Write Literary Style:**
> 
> Lately, I've read so many of Poe's works, and though he considered himself a foremost poet, his prose works are brilliant! I read the 'Tell-Tale Heart' first, and it's as excellent as every literary critic says it is. Then came 'The Black Cat'. And that one scared the life out of me. Because I could relate to the narrator, the psychopathic narrator. Because how many times have you done something wrong simply because you know that someone higher than you has forbid it? That part got me the most and forced me to explore a mind like the narrator's. And I've done that with Selene here. Whenever I need inspiration to write those intricately weaved sentences, I just read 'The Black Cat' and the words shower from the sky.
> 
> **2) Writing from the antagonist's perspective:**
> 
> Reading from Selene's perspective, you'll know little about the actual her, because she justifies her actions, and you may even sympathise with her. But she will never tell you the whole truth. That's why there's a second narrator: Peter. Justifying the villain's crude actions. And then see her from the hero's eyes and know that she is horrible in reality. I've tried my best to get the best blend.
> 
> **With love,**  
>  ~Pacifia


	2. Chapter 2

My little brother laughed as he filled his goblet with more wine. It was transparent, almost identical to water, only thicker. And it was the lightest one produced in the country. For now, it was all I allowed him. He would scowl at first. But then he got used to it. And now, it was the only sour liquid he had a taste for. Oh, I laughed. Should a lemon even come near him—

"Peter?" Edmund said suddenly, shattering the delicate silence. And I raised an eyebrow at him, sipping the grape wine I had asked Tavas to bring me. "What if—" He stopped to clear his throat. I grew curious. "What if you'd actually liked her?"

I blinked, finding both my brother's words and apprehensive expression strange. "Liked whom, Ed?"

Edmund sighed, shoulders slumping, hands raising high into the air to exhibit frustration. "Selene, of course, you dolt. What if she hadn't been that spoiled Princess? What if she'd been calm, quiet, understanding, graceful? Like Lady Arril!"

"Ed—"

Edmund warbled his lips in a rapid tril, and sat down on the sofa opposite to mine, thumping down his goblet onto the shimmering glass table. "If her brother hadn't died and she hadn't gone back to Daesbella—"

"Ed," I said, knowing it was the wine speaking now.

"No, you-! Listen, please," he insisted. I nodded reluctantly. "Do you know that Susan has been inviting Lords and Dukes from Archenland just so she can introduce you to their daughters?"

"What?" I said, nonplussed. "I should have a talk with her then."

"And," said my brother, casting me that arcane look of irrational fear mixed with a perpetual trepidation. He was balancing precariously on the edge of emotions, brought there by the wine and the events of the past days. And I knew he had to let it out. "Do you know?" he whispered, head down, voice a murmur, "Do you know I'm scared?"

I wanted to say, "Yes. Yes, I do, because you're my little brother."

But he went on, "It's silly, I know. I know! But," here he laughed, "the notion of you getting, _someday,_ married is very disturbing to me."

I laughed alongside him. But the bubbles of joy burst and vanished from the air soon when he continued, "We'll lose you, won't we? To a tittering airhead who doesn't even know you're afraid of lizards." He paused to let out another soft chuckle. "You'll be swooning after her for a year and then finally propose, after taking a lot of advice from me, of course. She'll say yes! And then fall in a dead faint. Because she's going to be Queen. _Queen_ , Peter!"

"Queen Consort," I reminded him, "according to the laws you framed."

"They haven't been legally passed yet."

I frowned at him. I thought he had.

"I didn't think we would need to since—" He sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "I and Lucy have decided never to marry."

I laughed. Really laughed because it must be a joke. Lucy's not even old enough to have wine and has already decided that? Such a decision without my knowledge? Did Susan know?

"I know we can't ask Susan for the same. She's already planning her wedding day in her dreams. What? Girls—except our Lu— _love_ weddings. And we can't ask you. For you need an heir. I can already imagine, Peter. The eccentric Duke's mysterious daughter. You'll get married. And…just forget about us."

"Edmund, that's rot," I said, ready to argue further but he interrupted me.

"It's true!" he yelled, leaning ahead on the sofa. "Alright, then tell me, how many times has Kivus talked to his brother this past year? I have seen him pass Trivel in the corridor and not Kivus doesn't even look at him when he's with Alitia the Dryad."

"Ed, please—"

Edmund shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. It's unfair. I'll just…" He snapped his head around. "Uh…"

I scrambled to my feet, already walking towards him. I cupped his face, wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm drunk. I'm not—"

I climbed up on the sofa, taking him into my arms. He wept silently, a flood of emotions surging through him. He'd held it in for too long. He was scared. And lonely. And I never noticed. He relaxed against me, going limp, as more tears soaked my tunic. I kissed his hair, wiping a sliding tear from his cheek. "Do you know what Lucy says?"

He didn't reply. Merely sniffed and nuzzled closer.

"She says that it isn't upto us to put someone on the throne. If I have children—"

"When," Edmund said.

I laughed, ruffling his hair. "No, Ed, _if_ I have children, they wouldn't inherit the Throne of Narnia unless Aslan sees them worthy. He's the King. He's the sole Judge. He's the Creator. We are mere subjects, you understand?"

"Yes," he said, sniffing.

"Then, brother, on this moonless night, I vow—" He looked up at me, hissing as his cheek slid over the small rubies Susan had sewed into my Royal Tunic. "—that I won't marry unless _you_ approve of my courter."

"Peter—" he said, beginning to lean back.

But he pressed his head to my shoulder again. "I trust you to find someone. Someone that won't take me from you. Someone that will understand that _she_ shall _never_ share the love I have for Aslan, Narnia, and my family." Edmund sobbed to hear that. "Someone that knows I fear lizards." He laughed; and I felt a surge of pure joy. "Someone that loves you and the girls as much as I. Someone that _you_ will accept to be called my _wife._ "

I smiled.

"Oh!" I exclaimed when Edmund turned and suddenly enveloped me into a bruising hug.

"Thank you," he murmured into my neck. "Thank you so much, Peter. I love you."

"I love you, too, Eddie," I replied, kissing his cheek.

I heard Edmund groan and I furrowed my brows in concern. "Ed?"

He pulled away, hand over his chest. "Edmund?"

He couldn't reply, only cough raucously, unendingly. I rubbed his back, helping him lean ahead as he tried desperately to breathe. He continued to cough until he collapsed, exhausted, into my arms, his breathing erratic, a profound look of pain in his eyes. "Edmund, you said you weren't sick anymore!"

"I…" He coughed again, and barely suppressed another.

"I'm telling Susan about this, Ed," I told him, scooping him up in my arms to take him to the bed in the Bunker, as Lucy called it. Though it was nothing less than a furnished hall where we rested on our free days. Edmund's eyes flickered open; his gaze caught me once, and then he collapsed again. I shook my head.

And then reaching the wide bed, I gently laid him down. I helped him drink some water, hoping to rid him of the wine-inflicted stupor. And then securely tucked him in under three blankets. He subconsciously protested at first, but then went still. I sat stiffly in a chair, holding Ed's hand over my knee. Until I, too, drifted off.

I woke to the sharp knife digging into my throat, the light faint, the large silhouettes hovering near my brother, making me seethe. I squeezed Ed's hand that I still held in mine. One of the dark figures nudged him. He didn't move. I squeezed his hand again. He still didn't move.

"Certain he won't wake?"

My mouth fell open. "Princess Selene?"

"Certain?" she repeated, ignoring me.

"Yes, Majesty," one of the figures replied, their voice thick and bold.

I felt her breath against my ear when she leaned down. I squeezed my brother's hand again. For my own sake. She spoke nicely, "It's a good thing he's asleep."

I felt the faintest twitch. I closed my eyes and drew a circle on his palm until my fingers warmed with the friction. "If he'd been awake, we'd have to kill him. And I don't _like_ killing children, you know, High King."

She kissed my hair. I froze at her touch. Familiarly cold and ravening.

Another twitch. I curled his hand into a fist, my movements subtle and unnoticeable in the dark.

And then she covered my mouth and nose with a sour cloth. I held my breath and tried desperately to find my brother's wrist without dropping his hand. I pressed his nerve, then clasped his hand in mine again. A minute passed without air. And I had to breathe.

I felt the fumes, the sour air travelling through my nerves. Felt them inch closer and closer to my heart as I groaned loudly in the sensation.

This wasn't Sorontia.

I moaned, convulsing up when I felt the air envelope my heart. Then, in a sudden second, insensibility wrapped around me, and I collapsed into the chair, gasping, my vision hazy and lined now.

Then, I felt my brother squeeze my hand, felt him weep through the gesture, felt his helplessness.

The sour air ascended up my throat again, curling into clouds, tearing my skin. I screamed, crying, jerking up from my chair. It hurt!

My eyes burned.

And then finally, darkness claimed me. My brother's hand left mine and I fell forwards, only to be caught by gentle arms.

The last thing I remembered: "Take him, Raviar."


	3. Chapter 3

It was such a small task for the large Raviar to lift Peter's, in comparison, child-like body. His head suddenly fell backwards, distorting his already disheveled hair further. I combed it with my fingers, murmuring soft, cooing words to him. Nimàj, the climber, as his friends and most of the Galman court called him, gingerly nudged Peter's brother again. The boy was packed like a parcel beneath the bundle of blankets; his face was phantom-white; I swear I could look through his apparitional skin. He hadn't moved an inch since I had stepped in to claim Peter—my fingers unconsciously traced his mushy skin briskly at the thought. When his head slipped from Raviar's greasy arm, falling with a jerk, I glared at my personal guard's captain. Raviar immediately managed a more comfortable position for the King. I turned my attention back to Nimàj and the younger King.

"Make sure he stays asleep, Nimàj," I told him, and then whipped around to hear footfalls approaching rapidly. The doors opened, the hinges squeaked, and then in came Kaios, the last of our party, told to keep a watchful eye for any passers, or the Night Watch that would surely patrol through the corridors. Kaios was a godly embodiment of allure and fascinatingly charming glamour. He was my second cousin, and mingled with I and my siblings during festivals; I knew him well and my father trusted him enough to let him accompany us.

"The Night Watch, Majesty. They're close."

I turned once back to Nimàj to make sure he'd done his job. I turned back, content to see—see—

By the River Hisella!

"You move another inch, you die," the boy said, unable to hide the weakness in his tone, the shattered voice. But he dug the knife further into my back, the blade would pierce the delicate fibers of my spine first, then kindle the extreme agony in me with a twist, if his smug smile was any indicator. "You're no spoiled Princess. Although, I don't know how much better a psychopath is." I felt his breath fume against me, uneven and weak. I smiled. "Tell _Raviar_ to put my brother on the bed."

I waved my hand in the air, as if brushing cobwebs away. Raviar nodded and complied with the command, meticulous in the process, as he pulled up the blankets to cover Peter's body. I was staring at Kaios' stupefied face all this time; he was frightened for me. I closed my eyes for a second, gently nodding my head. He untensed and I smiled to see him return to his charming manner.

"Now, we have time. We'll stay here until my valet or the Night Watch come to check on us. Do you play chess?" the pale boy asked, cocking his head to one side, I saw from the corner of my eyes. I threatened him with a hiss. "Oh, touchy, are you?" He looked back at Peter and then rolled his eyes. "He's not _that_ handsome, you know? This chap," he said, inclining his head towards Kaios, "looks far better. Do you know this is the _fourth_ time a rejected suitor has tried to kidnap him? But you—"

"You think I don't know."

"What?"

"You think I don't know you're not about to collapse." The King stiffened. "He'll make it easier for you," I said, and before the last word had even left my lips, Nimàj had crawled out from under the bed, grabbing the King's foot, pulling him down with merciless force. Nimàj then stood up, dusting his hands. I knelt beside the groaning boy, helpless, powerless, _inadequate_ to save his brother. He was lying with his cheek in contact with the ground cold as the fire's instantaneous touch, moaning like a small dog squeals when it isn't fed.

"I—" he said, sniffing when the blood dripped down from his nose, reddening his gleaming teeth. "—I thought I had knocked him out. Hard skull, eh?" he asked the Climber. Nimàj's eyes narrowed in cold contempt. Kaios had stepped in, eyes wary of the open door, of the shadowed walls, and the narrow line of the corridor the Watch could pass any second. Raviar had picked up Peter again. His brother's eyes flew to him, body still motionless and prone. And I saw him seethe only in mind. I laughed and yanked back his head with his hair gripped tightly in my hand.

"You know little of my Kingdom, _King_. Fiemàn, my home, fought wars against its own provinces and islands. I've lived a hard childhood. I've hunted and killed, fought for food, for _love._ And now my father wanted me to be this—this swooning _airhead_ , did you say? But I found a treasure here as well." A single tear fell flawlessly onto the rich, seamless carpet beneath us. I held out a hand and Kaios placed the King's silver-hilted knife onto my palm. I dug the blade into his neck. "You should have just slept."

His body braced itself for the pain that would last only a second before the life drained. He shivered and tensed, then untensed, crying cold tears, waiting with petrification for the lethal cut on his neck. I gave him a baleful smile. He wept again. But I held the knife by its hilt, rolling it smoothly on my palm, and then thrust it into the wood with brute force, pinning it into the small cavity I had formed.

"You're not going to kill me?" was the timid, frightened question he asked me.

"That's Raviar's job."

"Please."

He stiffened again, seeing my delicately executed eye-roll. Then I pulled back his head again, letting him groan loudly in protest, flex his jaw when the blood gushed down into his mouth. I tightened my grip. And threw his head sharply against the floor. It collided with an extreme _crack!_ He instantly went limp, hands uncurling, lips parted thinly for he couldn't breathe with his broken nose. I stood up, nudged him ungently with my foot, rolled him onto his back to reveal he was bleeding badly from the cut I had formed on the forehead. I kicked his side again. He didn't twitch.

"Majesty, I hear footsteps."

I stared at the boy, his pallor deathly-looking now, skin frail. I sighed. This was not what I had wanted.

"Selene!"

My name said without the customary title caught my attention and I turned. Kaios, kind Kaios looked frightful, eyes cautiously wavering between I and the open door. I asked Nimàj to initiate the second plan. And he dived out of the window. I turned to Raviar and kissed the King he held once, swearing I would be gentle with my love. A thread-thin trail of blood swept over to me and I hopped away on small steps. I looked up at my Captain.

"We have to run. Can you manage?" My glinting eyes must have told him I wanted no discomfort for Peter. Gentle, I told myself. I would be gentle. I had killed his brother; I would be gentle with him. Raviar's eyes were increasingly dreary and bleak, and I shook my head. "Carry him over your shoulder then."

I turned to Kaios. "What's the fastest way to the roof?"


	4. Chapter 4

I wasn't conscious. I couldn't be. Only in my dreams have I flied, seen the ground race with me as I ascended up into the sky. But in my dreams I wasn't being harshly pulled back over the bony shoulder of a large frame. Nor was I ever groaning, despite the tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach when I flew. I stopped. Or someone else did.

"Out of the room, Raviar! Quick!"

It was a voice my mind recognized, but I didn't.

"He's awake," was the pettily-voiced reply.

"That's impossible."

I groaned again and realized my eyes were closed when I was gently pulled up, stony arms beneath me. I was laid down on the hard ground. I was moaning again. The ravening, fuming touch came back with a caress to my cheek. I dared to open to my eyes, rapidly fluttering my lashes. It was utterly dark. An outline of the thin figure hovered over me.

"Majesty, allow me," said a third voice, one I didn't recognize.

And a cold hand pressed down on my throat, the wind ceased to flow through the narrow pipe, and I gagged and coughed, my eyes burning with hot tears. I tried to scream in the pain but could only cough again, feeling as if charred ashes of smoke had filled my lungs. The hand was withdrawn and my head rolled to my side. No—

"It's trapped in his throat, Majesty. Unless it can—"

A frustrated grunt. "No matter."

 ** _"No!"_** I screamed despite my torn throat, the cry had ripped out on itself. My hand reached for him, but the distance was too great.

"Oh, no, no, Majesty! They've heard him!"

"Raviar, close the door," the voice had grown small, trepid. "Kaios! Stop panicking! There must be another exit. Find it." A cold touch traced down my neck. Then up my cheek. She breathed against me, erratic and bubbled with fear. "Tell me how."

But I didn't care. My little brother was lying lifeless meters away from me. Had she done this?

"Tell me where!" she roared. My ear twinged. But I didn't reply. I didn't care. She grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. I struggled, wanting my eyes to remain on my brother, see his chest rise and sink oh so shallowly.

The door pounded thunderously. "They're here!"

"I will kill him," she warned. "Unless you tell me where the exit is, he will die. Where is it!"

I gulped, my throat hurt—I was suppressing tears.

"Love," she cooed softly. I blinked and felt a tear fall onto my cheek. "Oh, my love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—but please, please tell me, or Raviar—Raviar isn't merciful. He'll kill your brother. Please, my King."

The door pounded again. My half-conscious mind knew—I knew if I could hold them here, the door would break, and we would be salvaged.

"You're stubborn. Very stubborn." She turned. "Kaios."

And instantly, I heard my brother choke. I turned, his neck was trapped under Kaios's foot. "Please," I whispered.

"Then tell me where the exit is!"

I flinched at the roaring voice. The door burst with sounds of rapid thuds and wood and feet colliding with.

She breathed out heavily.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! But Kaios isn't gentle like me, Peter. Your brother doesn't have time. Please, please tell me so I can save him." She kissed my forehead tenderly. "Please. I plead you, my King. I beseech you! For your brother."

I looked at my brother again. Ed had run out of air. I panicked. "I'll tell you!"

Kaios drew back his murderous foot. Ed didn't breathe for some torturing seconds. Until at last he sucked in a breath, the gasping sound heavenly to my ears. I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks, one after the other they fell seamlessly onto the carpet, spreading in beautifully imperfect circles, soaking into the smallest fibers. I turned to her. The door pounded. The man holding it close with his weight grunted. And I flinched when she kissed me briefly again.

"Now, tell."

I took in some desperate breaths. "Ne—near the bed. The wardrobe," I managed between sobs.

She kissed me again. My eyes closed as I dissolved in the lingering touch. "Thank you."

And I felt a sharp blow of a knife's hilt on my head.

My world was swallowed by absolute black.


	5. Chapter 5

The narrow slits of Peter's eyes, the gold carved doors shut, taking a stupendously sea-blue, daring orbs of flaming fire with them. My eyes brimmed with uncalled tears at the sight, at the result of a deed of mine. Violence had been taught to me when the wars in the rebel islands that surrounded Eastern Galma—like little stones around a rock—began; my father had put a sword in my slender hand, and had driven it through the pulpy flesh of a white, furry rabbit. It had dropped dead without a groan, and I remember, I recall now, how brutally ear-piercing, and perturbing my scream had been. My mother had had me drinking oil to treat my throat for seven days. I slid one hand under Peter's back, pulling him up with a gentle thrust. He collapsed against me, and as scrumptious as his warm breath felt against me, I caressed the curls of his hair, and cradled him in my arms until the remorse of my previous malevolent, bitter act left me—I needn't have. Surely, he'd have cooperated. I kept him limp against me, and only let him go when Raviar insisted we needed to leave—he'd jammed the hinges with a crowbar.

I nodded at him and gingerly submitted the King to my Captain's arms, sliding him off from mine. I stood up, meticulously unwrinkling my gown with a smooth tug at its hem. My boots clacked in a familiar rhythm as I walked towards Kaios—he'd discovered the narrow tunnel, hardly wide enough for two broad men to fit. I looked at Raviar once; he held the King securely in his arms. His face was apprehensive, but there was nothing to worry me, the Narnians didn't concern me now, with the tunnel already lighting the way to a successful escape.

As I passed by the pale boy who lay gasping on the floor, his hazy yet raging, fiery black-brown eyes followed me with vehement hatred. A laugh erupted deeply from my chest and I stepped on his lax hand. He cringed, but never shrieked, such pride he wore. I felt malice fill me again, the horrible feeling that had controlled be those times, times I wanted to forget, but my adamant mind took me back. Back to the traitorous courtier, back to my terrible act, back to his ferocious cries despite a missing tongue. If it hadn't been for a nudge from Raviar, the King of Narnia would be blind now—I laugh as I write this. As the present looped around me and pulled me back, I jerked back from the gasping figure of the boy. A second later, after another fervently hateful stare, he immersed into darkness. I had relinquished my position in the court as my father's left hand for one single reason; I would not sink so low again.

I had sworn on my Love's life. I had _sworn_. To the Lion that betrayed me, I had sworn.

I cleared my throat, swallowing a thick lump as I sauntered easily towards Kaios and the tunnel that was our salvation. I glanced in anticipation at the large Window. And Nimàj, just on time, swung in, hanging by the window's wooden frame.

The door pounded once again. "Peter! Edmund!" was the desperate cry of the Gentle Queen, her faint voice permeating through the air hollowly.

I ignored her. "She's up there?" I asked Nimàj.

He nodded.

"Set fire to the room. That will hold them long enough," I said, following Raviar and Peter into the tunnel.

Nimàj looked sympathetically at the other King. "Leave him."

And with my gown flapping behind me, I hurried after Kaios. He didn't meet my eyes, and why should he after my viscous decision? But the itch was there, my mind ached for it, and I despised the feeling. But I still reveled in it—a thorough feeling of sheer pleasure filled me even now, to do something—something corrupted, against my lamented mother's wishes, against my own beliefs that I had engraved in my soul in my younger years, when I was whole. And for that very reason, I left the young boy to die.

We were at the edge of the tunnels when the charcoal-smelling smoke reached us, the blazes of fire had begun shining in the dark long ago, illuminating Kaios's golden mop of hair. And then a horrible scream erupted the air, frightened, filled with extreme terror, shaken with the initial shock that I had, one day, felt, too. The Gentle's voice had never gained such volume before.

_"EDMUND!"_

Peter suddenly spasmed in Raviar's arms, startling all three of us. We continued at a slower pace; I grabbed his cold hand, brushing off some of the ashes that had settled on his fair skin. His body spasmed again, little stone-coloured tears sliding harmoniously down his cheeks. He wept as I pressed tender kisses on his hand, rubbing his signet ring with my finger. He knew. And he felt it. I kissed him as voices echoed in a frenzy out of the burning room.

_"No, no-"_

_"Such atrocity!"_

_"Is he breathing?"_

Love bound me, the thick rope of tender affection. So, when he spasmed again, crying bitterly in his unconscious grief, I urged Raviar to a stop. Peter's body dropped again, and I combed back his long hair. I kissed him gently on the forehead, inflicting a soothing touch, not one for pleasure, or to just feel, but to reverberate peace. I don't know if it was the exhaustion or my show of affection that finally calmed him. He didn't move for the rest of the journey.

The tunnel had led us to the Southern Wing's third floor. This part of the castle was, as I had heard from my father, the disorderly, ever untidy, foul-smelling, and its halls practically enmeshed with straight-back soldiers. I had never had the displeasure of visiting this building, most of my visit was spent in the furnished and gleaming halls of the Eastern Wing. A perfect place for royalty, not this revolting corridor we were trekking through now. It was empty as the soldiers had gasped and shrieked at the news of their King burned alive, and dispersed from the various clusters they'd formed near the windows or doors leading to smaller but similarly vile and repulsing chambers.

I followed Kaios—smiling at his shining hair, biting at my lower lip—up the stairs. The metal lock broke at once when he struck it harshly with a piece of marble we had picked from the tunnel. Holding Peter's limp hand in mine, I stepped out on the roof, in front of my sister.

Felana shook her head, and then muttered something to Aviso who was standing beside her. It must have been an order, and an urgent one, for he hurried to behind the dome that stood towering on the roof, just opposite of us. Raviar lifted Peter higher up and I left his hand. Felana spoke up.

"How could Father send you? After what—" She chose not to say it. Wise choice, I say now to the inked paper. "Who did you murder this time?"

I had stopped wincing at the word long ago. But Kaios flinched visibly beside me. I smiled. "The other King."

"Do you think you pleased him?" she said. "Do you think he praises you for these atrocious crimes?" I didn't answer; though I knew he must be appalled by me. "Nimàj said you like him," Felana said, glancing sideways at the unconscious King I had stolen after so much effort.

"I love him," I said with confidence. "We don't have much time. The Griffin?"

"With Aviso," she replied, "Kaios will go with you."

I was already walking around the dome. As I, Raviar with the King tucked in his arms, and Kaios followed a curving path around the dome, Felana called, "I shall see you at the sea then!"

"If the Narnian Queens don't find you first," I said with a guile smirk.

Aviso was waiting with the rogue Griffin he'd procured last winter. From where, no one knew, and didn't bother asking. Raviar placed Peter onto his golden back first, gentle and cautious in the process. Then, with one hand under his head, I jumped on as well.

And with a brush of the wind flowing past us, we flew north.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke to icy air cutting my face like small splinters. My hair flew back, floating, soaring above me as I—

Where was I?

I lifted my head

But was immediately pushed down, my breath hitching at the touch of her hand. _Her_ hand. I didn't know her and yet I had submitted myself to her so many times, known the wine-sweet taste of her lips, had felt at ease if not safe in the cradle of her arms. And yet I did not know her.

Not her mind, not her thoughts, not her laugh. I only knew her arms and lips. My head twinged suddenly, and I groaned.

Then I blinked, the stars passing us in a haze. I spotted Cleistius, the bluest and brightest star, Son of Tremura. And then Vrothelum, twinkling.

But Vrothelum never twinkled. For him, as Edmund had explained to me one sleepless night, it was the expression of grief. Vrothelum and the Just had bonded immediately after his birth, and his love for my brother was known throughout Narnia.

He'd even sung to him once, a distant melody echoing from the West. On the first anniversary of Beruna. I smiled.

And the fierce beating of wings broke me out of my trance. I realized with a jerk that we were flying. My stomach felt the stinging sensation again, gravity tugging at my stomach, as we flew forward. It was the most uncomfortable feeling. I was gently lifted up, and I closed my eyes as she hid my face into her shoulder. My legs, I realized as I became more and more aware, were dangling in the sky, and my body sprawled on the softest, lushest body—I could only recognize it as a Griffin. A Griffin, a friend. I was safe, I thought, but then why was Vrothelum weeping? And why did I feel the feeling of never-ending dread sink deeper and deeper into my heart?

What did my heart know that I didn't?

"He's awake?" a distantly familiar voice asked as I melted in her arms again. It was so easy to get lost in her touch. Even when I felt that the grip was just a little too tight, the touch possessive, invasive. I knew. And yet, I couldn't care, surrounded by too much pleasure and warmth.

"Hardly," _she_ said and I felt her slenderest fingers brush the locks of my hair away. The wings beat loudly again and I nuzzled into her.

She was soft. And warm. And nice?

I didn't know. As I didn't know _her_.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, love," she cooed in my ear. "I promise I'll be gentle now."

She'd said that before, hadn't she? I didn't care. I pulled up my legs; they were aching as the blood slowed in my veins. Freezing in the cold. And I crept even closer to her. She pulled me up, and I breathed out. For some time to come, I knew nothing but the sweetest slumber and her breath brushing past my hair.

I woke only seconds later, I think, for the wings were still beating, and my position was identical. The voices hadn't changed either, only the tone.

"Ikàso was my brother, Selene. I know he loved you."

She sobbed, and I heard her heart thump in her chest. I wriggled an arm around her waist, holding tight. Who was she? And did she deserve my love? The warmth I was giving her? Did she deserve my acceptance of her?

"But after—after tonight, oh, Kaios, it happened again, didn't it? I wasn't Selene tonight, was I? I burned him alive!"

I went limp and would have slid off the flying Griffin if she had not caught me. No—

"Down, Tvar!"

I remembered. My brother's gasps flooded my mind, the hateful smile she'd given him, I could see! It flashed and flashed endlessly before my eyes! What had I done? Pleasuring in the touch of the murderous woman? Oh, Aslan-! My brother! I wanted my brother!

_Burned him alive._

_"No!"_ I screamed, thrashing against her, struggling against the repugnant touch I had once found warm and soft. Blindly, without thinking, I jumped off my carrier. I hadn't expected ground to greet me. But I collided harshly with the earth, my bones snapped. But my joints seemed to open up, unjamming. I scrambled to my feet and was running into the woods before I even knew it.

"Catch him!"

I dashed past the trees, my hands brushing the splintering wood, cutting the delicately pale skin. I ran aimlessly until the trees were lines of brown shooting past me in a haze. I ran until a hand caught my leg and I tumbled down.

Sturdy arms pinned me to the Earth, burying my face into the wet mud. I gagged, choking as tears welled up and thickened my throat. I was then rolled onto my back, harsh hands on my arms. I dared to open my eyes. My own shadow greeted me. Like staring into a mirror. Blond and blue-eyed. But with a crooked nose. I grimaced, still thrashing against him. And then she came into view. Selene. My brother's killer. She flinched and I realized my eyes must have darkened like my siblings had informed me numerous times they did.

She was undeniably beautiful, dark-honey-coloured hair, laughing curls, lips thin and crimson red.

But all I saw was a monster with menacing eyes and an ominous laugh.

The man who was eerily similar-looking to me turned to her. To Selene. Such a beautiful name wasted on the horrendous spirit.

"Do you have it? Dmin?

"No," she replied, shaking her head. She knelt beside me, running an abhorrent hand along my cheek. She kissed me briefly again and I growled, swearing I would kill her. "Be gentle, Kaios."

And then she was gone, like a spirit that had lingered floating away.

Kaios was not gentle when he knocked me out with a hard punch.

I woke to the night sky spreading slowly above me until I saw the gloaming horizon emerge through the thick crowd of tall oaks, their leaves shedding as autumn pressed*. My hitched breaths were muffled. It was Ed's birthday. His eighteenth. I trembled with my sobs, a pain too fierce, too viscous, spreading like wildfire through me. It sickened me, seemed to shrink my heart. I wept, tears fell, drops broke onto the ground; I wept alone, bound to my sole companion—the oak tree. I wept until no more tears would come and the sun rose above the crown of trees.

And Kaios came back. He appeared through the thicket to my left, yawning.

"Your Majesty, awake already?" he said, ambling towards me. My eyes never left him as he knelt down. I would cut him to pieces. "Selene told me to be nice."

He cocked his head to one side. "Then would you prefer being drugged or knocked out?"

He winced—very slightly but I had noticed. It must have been my eyes—black now. He didn't speak again but pulled out a wet cloth. I shifted.

"Oh, don't worry. It's not Dmin. We found the plant Sor."

It hovered parallel to my face, until he forced my mouth close with his hand. I held my breath. And yet I was asleep seconds later, the sweet taste of Sorontia on my tongue.

I woke to sunlight filtering in fine rays through my lids, giving my black vision a yellow tint. I groaned but realized I couldn't, my mouth was stuffed with a filthy gag, shooting revolting charcoal-like particles of Dmin through it. My throat was suddenly burning, itching, dry as the Southern Desert. I tried to move, but my feet and hands were bound with the thickest rope, rough edges cutting mercilessly through my skin. Without ever opening my eyes, I writhed on the wooden floor, squirming like an insect, but the space I was allowed was tiny, and my head struck a hard surface, dizzying me further.

I fluttered my eyes open and found myself staring at a blue dot, speckled over a brown canvas. The brown was darker at places and very coarse, and the blue suddenly changed to an unevenly spread white. I blinked. And as I got more sense of depth, I realized I was staring at a small hole in a wooden chest. I was trapped in a chest! I went still, refraining myself from panicking. I had enough air, the Dmin was not bothering me so. I would be fine. I—

"Did you find him, Sinon?"

My breath hitched.

"No, Sire."

"Tavas?"

There was no audible reply. And I desperately peeked through the hole. The sun's profound shine was silhouetting his figure. But I recognized him instantly. I tried to scream, wail, cry, bellow! For him, I ripped my throat in attempt to call his name. But only managed a muffled sound.

He left my sight and I panicked, unable to see him through the small piercing in the wood.

But my dear friend, Tavas suddenly emerged into view, his dark head contrasting perfectly with the floating clouds. I tried to call his name. But when no sound came, I wept, feeling warm, salty tears slide down my cheek, and tasting them on my ragged lips. They were here, right here!

"I shouldn't have killed him. I could have-I could have-" I heard Edmund say**, and I gripped to him tightly, to his voice. A thunderous sound of what I recognized as many crates falling onto each other. It must have been Ed. He was angry.

"And he _might_ have been alive! If that monster hadn't lit the room on fire!"

My eyes were twitching in the tears, but I managed a relieved laugh. He ha—he hadn't!

I saw Tavas suddenly run towards Ed. "Oh, Majesty, please! Get up!"

"Aslan, please! She will destroy him! You don't know-!"

"There is nothing we can do, Majesty. The Ships are leaving. He isn't here."

"But they flew north! They have to be at the Northern Docks!" A shuddering breath. And then a laugh, sheepish yet relieved. Edmund's voice was loud enough to make my ears ring, "The crates! Rip them all! Find him! Sinon, Tabil, Kivus, Blai! Vo and Vella! _Now!_ "

I praised the Lion for my brother's wit. I settled back, going limp. He would find me. I knew he would.

"Sire!" called a panting voice distantly. I saw through the hole, Edmund whirled around frantically, greeting Rea the Rabbit by kneeling down. She hopped and hopped until she finally found her voice. "The Princess, Majesty! The Eagles saw her at the Southern Docks! She was with the big man Raviar!"

Edmund gulped. Then he thanked Rea and stood up. "Vella! Run to Cair, tell the Queens of this!" he told the leopard sister. "And the rest of you! We'll take a boat! Quick! Now!"

_No, no, no, no!_

_I'm here! Ed! Can't you hear? Can't you see? I'm right here! **Brother -!**_

I thrashed in the small chest, hitting the wood with my feet and elbows, writhing like a snake, trying to scream but only dried my throat further. _Edmund-!_

I fell limp, exhausted by the effort, dizzy from the intensifying smell of charcoal. My heart slowed as the Dmin wrapped around it again. I couldn't scream in my agony. I endured silently. My eyes burned. My vision darkened, dotted by dancing black dots.

And I immersed into blackness, whispering in my mind, _happy birthday, Ed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *An inconsistency I fixed.
> 
> **And the harsher and more violent threats and thoughts have been altered. And here, I realised Edmund wasn't clear.


	7. Chapter 7

The winds were so fierce, solid and bold in their speed, that I wondered as I put down my obsidian goblet, black water bristling above the edges of delicately curved glass, how the mast of the ship had not sundered already. The crew on the Galman vessel was giddy, trepid, eyes travelling warily to the Narnian ship, riding above the waves, closing every second; as if it would surcease their worry. Oh, no, when the whole nation had been inflamed, maddened with fiery anger, antagonized, and made foes that were set upon, frankly, wrecking and shattering our floating creature of wood, we were utterly doomed. I had sat ruminating on the deck of my ship, staring pensively at the soaring clouds and the yellow-blue sky they hid behind them. I was waiting.

And oh, how I had waited, sitting in uninvited melancholy, lonely in my lush chambers, tinted and glossed by colours of the sky and sea; the colours beguiled the enterers, enchanting but radiating only bleakness and fair despondency. I had waited, my feet dangling, dancing, making swinging motions in the air with my – oh, so small! – feet. I had waited with hard-gained patience as my people, my fair people of hearts of devoted love and tenderness and calm intimacy sang to my Castle Chamber with their raucous shouts. But Father never—oh he never came! He never came and I was merely permitted to sit formally as the High Princess I was on the Balcony and observe in dreariness, the unfolding celebrations that I yearned heartily to join—He never came! And the mice in the walls lost their paws that night, and I my innocence, finding love and intimacy in the servant that had come to serve food.

Presently, I waited longer until the distant beating of wings met my ears and I relinquished my quiet thoughts, scrambling up, shifting weight to my limp, wobbling legs—they ached with soreness, long gained from sitting for the protracted period of time. The servants shrieked and hurried away when Tvar the Griffin landed on the deck, wings beating ever so loudly.

He carried Felana and I smiled once at my sister before jumping up elegantly on the back of marvellously tireless creature; I wanted to stay true to the graceful demeanour I had put on as a false suit. An utter fallacy that the crew believed true.

Tvar flew.

And I stared in awe at the stubborn vessel in hot pursuit of the—in careful comparison—smaller Galman vessel. It's intricately carved wood was divine and august—surely stupendous in its authentic beauty—and I watched in reverence as Tvar flew South, towards dear, _dear_ Peter. And I spotted, with a squint of my eye, the dot-like figure of the King on the deck—a phantom? A haunting apparition of the past to haunt and daunt me? He was pallid, and no doubt, a ghost born of viscous, malignant fate, for his sunken eyes bore the horrifying fieriness, only more deeply engraved, as if carved into his soul. Oh, no, I didn't see, if you wonder at my words—it was what I knew—I knew! For my atrocities were finally shadowing over me, hovering above like clouds of the absolute horrendous fate that would strike my faint, ragged figure now! I was at the mercy of supreme powers—and I had offended them!

When a tear fell, into the sky, travelling down at the rapid speed—I saw it land on a low cloud—my sister slid both arms around my slender waist, and I leant against her for comfort.

Because, for now, she had me back.

"Do you think, sister, that you will ever be free?" she asked me.

"Ikàso freed me, Fey. Remember the times? The times-!"

"Shhh," she hushed me, tucking back a tuft of my hair. "Maybe," she said, cautious with her words and tone, "the High King can free you."

"He doesn't love me," I argued grimly.

She kissed the crown of my head. "I do. Father does. Kaios does." I nodded, running a smooth hand briskly through Tvar's hair. "He killed Nimàj." I stiffened but reacted in no other way.

"Fortunate," I said.

"Warrior," she countered.

"He will _not_ take him!"

"No," she replied, smiling, her chin dug into the flesh of my shoulder. "Stay Selene, stay this time."

And I did.

* * *

When Tvar made a swift landing, his lion-great paws sliding an inch before coming to a final halt, I was greeted by Kaios and Aviso. The gentleman took my hand kindly, and aided me in my descent from the tall Griffin. I gazed into his eyes, besotted with the beauty of his High Princess, an unfathomable lighter shade floated solemnly above the waves of his blue sea. Had I chosen him, I would be happy.

"Thank you," I said. And he instantaneously knew, pupils dilating, a smile gracing his lush lips.

"Majesty," he said serenely, and kissed my hand.

I relinquished his from mine, uncurling my slender fingers from his. I turned to Aviso. He was a venerable man, with masculinity reflecting from his popping muscles and nerves; his head was greying and skin ripening, the luscious and juicy grace leaving his thinning lips, an old-age pallor now sinking into his skin.

"Brother," I greeted placidly.

"Sister mine," he said, charmingly kissing the back of my hand. Felana was led away by the suave Kaios, and I found my arm gracefully linked with my eldest cousin Aviso. He was my youngest Uncle's son and nothing less than a loving sibling. He ushered me towards the cabins.

"Father?" I asked him as we ventured on.

"He arrived at the Castle two whole days ago. Safe," he assured. "He has chosen well for you."

Pink hotly rushed to my cheeks and I, in my mortification, glanced down at my feet. "He's very handsome, isn't he?"

He chuckled gleefully. "Some would say even better than Kaios."

"Kaios _does_ have a crooked nose."

Aviso then brought us smoothly to a halt and glanced at the door that stood before us. "I knew you would mind attendants, so I let him be. He's unconscious, and feverish. The Dmin was excess, dear sister of mine."

"Kaios is to blame for that," I defended.

"Ah," he said curiously, then blinked as if coming to a conclusion, "he and I shall have a talk then."

I kissed him on both cheeks. "Don't be too harsh, brother." He began to stride away but I stopped him with a shrieky call. He turned. "Have they found Raviar's body yet?"

"He was lost in the sea, madam," he said grimly. "The Narnians are a hideous lot to not return him to us. I'm sorry."

I nodded. The room I entered after the easing conversation with my cousin was furnished and polished in every corner and edge, made to suit royalty. A darkening blue colour tapestried the perfectly wrapped walls, the oppressing black colour painted the Ceiling, making the chandelier of volcanic glass shine ever brighter. My eyes flew to the bed and the bleak and small figure lying immobile on it. Quickly, I was by his side.

Even from a meter away, the heat shooting off his body was apparent, his discomfort almost palpable. I bound him in a tenacious grip, steadying myself as the ship swayed and rocked, the silent bubbling of water against the hull tangibly ringing in the air.

"Razia!" I called urgently.

The door opened. "Majesty?"

"Some water and a clean cloth please."

Without a word, she was gone. I lied down on the softest mattress, on my side, curled beside my love. He groaned once, and I swiped his brow, curved perfectly. "I let your brother live, didn't I? Won't you accept me?"

"No," came the faintest whisper, voice dreamy and distant, of not here, not aware, but a delirious string of hazy words. He turned to me, eyes open just enough to let a humble ray of light filter in. "My brother—" He laughed. "—will kill you."

And then he was asleep again. Razia missed the cruel words by a second, and without uttering a word, she quickly placed the bowl of water and cloth on the table. I dismissed her with a wave. And worked for an hour, scrubbing his arms and chest, patting his forehead gently with the damp cloth. Until the fever left him.

And I fell asleep, too.


	8. Chapter 8

I had dreamt of my brother.

Fog loomed over the high waves of the greying sea, an ardent flicker burst forth. Then the boat, narrowed and pointed, a curved side, splintered, and the paint nearly not enough to prevent the wood from rotting. I don't know why I remembered this, but it was printed in great details in the unconscious nerves of my mind. But what I remember with even more clarity and lucidity—my brother's hand extended towards me. _Come on! Come on, Peter!_ he'd shouted. And I tried. But I was bound, mercilessly, brutally, by ropes that symbolized my doom. And he'd given up. Just given up. He drifted away with the waves, sparing me not one glance, surrounded by friends and allies—away from me but in my name! Mad! _Come back!_ I screamed. But he left.

He left and they came.

They lifted my lax body, freeing from the suffocating captivity of the chest—I smelled flowers. A feminine presence, a feathery touch on my cheek. Gentle but not loving. She knew her limits. She knew she had no right when her sister wasn't here, I'd heard her say. And yet I'd felt her press a lingering kiss on my lips. Foul play, I'd found myself thinking. Or just irresistible temptation. The touch was harsh and had lasted long, until they put me on a mattress. As soft as my bed in Cair. I had slept in my dream.

And I had woken.

To a hand poking at my cheek.

I fluttered my eyes open, felt a weight on my chest, stayed still, and glanced sideways at the girl who'd been curiously jabbing me with her finger. She was currently fumbling with the tray displaying cutlery and the prestige Galman crockery. Was there food? She looked at me. For only a fraction of a second, I met her eyes, and she cleared her throat, looking away. I tried to move but felt the weight on my chest wiggle and groan sleepily in protest. I lifted my head and glanced down to find a golden head perched on my shoulder, a sleeved arm curving around my bare chest. I seethed and cursed her and her cleverness—she had a knife in her left hand.

I looked at the girl—servant, I presumed by her ragged clothes.

"Who are you?"

"Ra—Razia, your Majesty," she stuttered.

"Galman?"

"Hardly, my King. I was sold to my Uncle there when my father died due to an illness. I'm from Archenland," she added, eyes brightening. I nodded, wary of the sleeping monster, sprawled like an innocent child over me.

"Help me," I whispered.

"My Lord—"

"Please."

She nodded, lightly dropping the knife and silver spoon on the wooden table. She swayed on her feet when the boat—or ship, I judged by the grand cabin—rocked. "The Dmin," I told her. "It's under the pillow, I think. Quick," I implored.

Her hand wriggled under the pillow, lifting my head a little. Selene groaned again, nuzzling her face into my neck. She kissed my shoulder. "One day you will."

I shuddered. "Quick!"

And Razia pulled out the black cloth; it smelled of charcoal and nothing else. "Throw it into the sea," I told her.

And she complied.

When she came back, a high window now open and making me shiver in the sea winds, I asked her to untie my right wrist from the hinge of the wardrobe just beside me, attached to the wall. As she tried to do the same, I let my mind drift. How had she fooled Ed? How was she here if she was at the Southern Docks? And then I remembered. The Griffin. Narnian, but helping them? Why? Griffins were noble, steadfast, and bound to the throne. I shook myself and looked at Razia, still fumbling with the hinge, trying to take off the looped rope. She tugged too hard and my skin scraped with the harsh rope. I shrieked in pain. And the sound woke her. She wriggled, squirmed, yawned—

"Quick!" I hissed.

But Razia had frozen, her hand clutching desperately to mine. "My Lord, forgive me. Please—"

I blinked and another, much fairer, slenderer hand had grabbed Razia's. The weight on my shoulder had not lifted and I dared not look at her baleful smile—it made my blood run cold. Razia tried to wriggle away from her grasp but she was unbelievably strong. Razia cried, her tears fell on my lashes and I blinked again. This time Selene was towering over me, knees squishing my stomach, her hand still holding Razia's. She twisted her wrist.

Razia screamed.

"No!" I yelled.

Selene smiled menacingly again, perturbing, and obscene. She crawled over me to reach the other edge of the bed. She slid down, never releasing Razia's hand. I struggled against the rope when the girl whimpered. Selene cornered her, tucking back her dark hair. She raised Razia's hand with hers.

"You dared touch him?"

"My Lady, please. Please, I beg you!" Razia bellowed, shaking with her rapid sobs. I thrashed on the bed, cursing the reluctant rope.

Selene pulled out the knife she had held in the left hand, now shining bright in her right. "Which finger would you prefer losing first? The one you poked my love with? Or the one that was on his ring?" Razia only whimpered, looking to ready to vomit, her tear-streaked face frightened.

"TELL!"

"Please—" was all she managed.

"Well," Selene said. "How about the thumb then?" She pinned Razia's hand on the wall, her grip on her wrist must be bruising.

"Please!" Razia screamed.

The knife's blade brushed past her thumb, hovering, lingering to incite fear, followed by pain. A bubble of blood burst out and Razia screeched.

"Selene."

Everything stilled.

Selene whipped around, her gown flapping behind her. Razia sank to the floor, holding her bleeding hand close, crying hoarsely. "Love?" Selene said.

I steeled myself. "I love you."

Selene hitched on her next breath. She raced to my bed, instantly holding my left hand. "Say it again. Please say it again!"

"I—I love you," I repeated with the serenest smile.

"Oh, that was all—all you ever needed to say!" she exclaimed, planting light kisses all over my face. I let her, stiffening. She kissed my neck. "Oh, do you know? Do you know how long I've waited!" she shrieked in my ear. I flinched.

"I love you! I love you! I love you!"

She stopped to breathe, resting her forehead against mine, eyes boring into me. "Now I can tell you. You've brought me back and I can tell you," she whispered, kissing my brow again. She continued solemnly, "Thank you. Thank you so much! I—"

Her words were replaced by a stifled scream.

"No," I said, "thank _you_ for the knife."

I withdrew the blade and she fell limp on the bed, her body spasming lightly in the pain from the gash. A tear leaked out her right eye, trailing down her temple. "It won't kill you," I told her, "hold this." And I stuffed the pillow's edge into her hand. "They'll come soon and help you. Just hold onto this until then," I said, squeezing her hand once.

I cut the rope with a single slash and struggled to my feet. I staggered towards Razia; she flinched away. I clasped her hand.

"Help her," was all I said before stumbling out of the back door, wherever it would lead me.


	9. Chapter 9

He'd been assiduous, diligent, dedicated, and thorough in his crude action of smoothly—oh, so smoothly! — piercing the flesh, as a butcher slides his knife into meat—the sight is almost satisfying, the sound, though lethal and deathly sounding, a pleasing ring to the ears. The knife had elegantly brushed past the arteries, touching them but far from inflicting any real harm. He'd been deliberate, had ensured my soul remained caged in my body even as the blood oozed out like sand creeping through the narrow gaps between your fingers. You clasp and grasp and try! Oh, you labour and toil! But it never surceases to leave you. Like the uneven, bristling waves of the sea our ship galloped above, I felt timorous, confidence of my life's certainty slipping away, I was suddenly humble before the powers! Faint-hearted, and ready to yes, oh, yes, _weep_! For so great was my agony. A singeing and scorching heart! A burning side, wet with crimson! – Oh, gods! What else! What more do you ask of me? I had endured! I had suffered! I knew, I knew now!

But no thunder rumbled near in the sky, nothing clashed and boomed, nothing abruptly changed, it all remained still and motionless until the door burst open, panicked footfalls reaching me a frenzy of seconds when every moving thing was a flicker of ever fainting light. Then a hand tenaciously gripped my side, a persistent touch, since it lingered when I groaned to express my profound agony. The blue, sizzling orbs with gleaming charm were suddenly, eerily hovering over me, like twin moons reflecting sheer glory; every fibre in my frame melted and dissolved into their solace and support. I had expected the juicy voice of my King, of heart and soul, but it was the thick and high voice of Kaios, speaking incoherent words of comfort and shaky assurance.

And I slept.

It had begun simply.

The days of summer when the sky charred and seared in the atrocious and absolute heat of the ruthless sun, I was a young child living comfortably, protected, and yes, pampered as every royal princess is (I blush as I pen this). My siblings, five in total, two brothers, and three younger sisters, blended and melded with me, not missing a single oppurunity to make my cheeks burn with mock chagrin. Their giggles and airy laughs ring lucidly in my ears even now, a perfect melody to soothe me on melancholy days, to amuse me at dreary times, cheer me in bleak winters when the crops died and the nation stared in the face of famine and imminent death.

It wasn't until I was a woman, a mere girl but woman indeed of thirteen, that it began.

It.

It altered the very course and flow of my thoughts, changing them from innocent to vicious, malevolent, malignant, horrendous, malicious, and baleful. What had triggered it, I do not recall—perhaps the death of my eldest brother, Colvir, or the untimely death of my mother, that had left the island nation of Galma in a vast and endless darkness.

It was before the country of Narnia had risen out of her den, had rebooted her trade with the southern Empires, and had, finally, in the third year, acknowledged, with great pleasure, our small island off the coast of their grand Castle and the Great River. We were balancing cautiously and precariously on the brink of another disaster, a tragedy, it would incite in the Kingdom, if the crops were to be lost again to the early snows. Narnia had salvaged us with only a small fraction of her rice, produced in the North, by the bank of Shribble, and some wheat from the Western Mountains. But for us, it was enough to survive—like vultures on Carrion—but survive, and slowly—very slowly—thrive as well. The eldest Sovereigns had visited the Castle of Galma, but in those bare days, I was still locked in my luxurious yet unbelievably monotonous and wearisome chamber, boredom reflecting off its sea-blue walls. I was under the protection of our now former Captain, Raviar, and was rarely allowed to leave the borders of my rooms, or step past the boundaries marked by laces, laid elegantly at the doorstep, lest my mind should betray me again. But I had caught just a glimpse—hardly real in his surreal beauty—but I had seen him, mistaken him for the High King, and the innocent part of me had, quite seamlessly and instantaneously, fallen I love with him. He was not the King, and yet he was my escape.

He was everything.

And he was torn away.

The dream began fading, the luminous edges dimming, as bubbles of consciousness floated over it, hiding his face—Damn you! I yelled, damn you for leaving!

The voice came in the form of a timid whisper, "Rest."

My eyes, that had never unclosed, held beneath them my rapidly moving blue orbs of hazed black tinted within them, a trait I shared with Peter.

It had begun simply.

A King unprotected and leisure in his chambers, wrapped in the stupor of wine, and senses hardly efficient. A perfervid love and vehement passion. A fervent wish and a well-executed plan. It was all we needed. And it had got us thus far, easily, smoothly, and harmoniously. The Narnians were well behind us, climbing on the first step of the flight of stairs we had _built._ The plan was brilliant, the resources laid in front of us—we were _equipped_. And yet, we had failed, _flawlessly_. My heart sank, my spirits fell, and every fibre in my frame possessed the same demonish fury when he didn't accept me—I had kept it bay, and the fiend came back yet again.

No matter, I had told myself, I can still have him.

And I did.

A petty matter to steal him. But to smuggle him from under the noses of his subjects spread like the stars in the sky, present at every corner of the country, was not a simple task—It was intricate, every process and phase weaved like fibres into yarn, every man, every flank necessary.

And we had accomplished it.

We had _fooled_ the Queens—and the King, as seen.

They chased after a Trade Ship that was sailing to Wkhall, a Galman Colony.

We had won! We had untangled the ravelled ends of the unsolvable puzzle! We _deserved_ Victory! Not failure! No! Not failure!

 _I_ deserved love!

I _craved_ love!

But betrayal was what I received, was what was gifted to me.

And I craved revenge to an equal degree.

The cold, singeing touch of ice on my forehead roused me. It was Felana, tending to me. "The King?"

"In the servant chambers."

I was already at the door, swaying with the ship's gentle rocking.

"Sel, he's—he's already—"

The door shut with a _clamp_ behind me.


	10. Chapter 10

The door stood ajar, blurry light angling in, the spiralling dust made visible.

There was a noose around my neck, the rope tied to the steel handle bolted into the wooden cavity in the wall. The looped rope was killing me, ebbing my skin. But I sat there silently, unmoving, waiting eagerly for death, as their eyes bore into me.

"Did he really think he could escape? We're on a boat!" had been only one of the taunts thrown at me.

But I _had_ come quite close. A simple choice ruined my crafty plan and hard-work.

_"Are you sure you can go alone?"_

_"Yes."_

The older man with the greying beard and wrinkling skin tugged at the rope and ensured I was helpless and prone before allowing the figure—silhouetted by the light behind it—to step in. A flurry of silk and green fluttered behind her as she walked with poise towards me. She knelt down and held up my limp head with her fair hands. I scarcely cared—about anything. I didn't care what she was going to do to me for stabbing her, betraying her, giving her the false confession of love. Oh, that was the coldest one, wasn't it? There are many things I am in love with, few I love, even fewer that I love ardently—my family, my people, and above all, the Lion. And she thought I loved _her_? She, who attempted and almost succeeded in killing my only brother? She would have taken everything. _Everything._

"You betrayed me, betrayed my love."

I remained motionless, my eyes looking past her, at Kaios. If it hadn't been for him—

_"Stop, Aviso!"_

She smiled cruelly, and her hands slid against the coarse rope.

"You'll kill him?" Kaios asked when she carefully began tightening the knot around my neck; I felt the pressure increase, my throat constricted.

I saw her reply, but never heard it; exhaustion had finally pulled me into oblivion.

It had begun simply.

As I struggled past the narrow doors, they hurled back and then swept towards me; I barely twisted in time to avoid getting hit by a fanning door. My mind was groggy, still under influence of the Dmin, but I thought of home as the very narrow and eternally dark corridor shrank from the sides and stretched ahead. My home, my family. They knew I'd been abducted, by a demented woman, not to mention, spiteful—I recalled her vindictive eyes, just hovering above with sheer malice. My siblings and my people knew. My _brother_ knew.

I groaned when I stumbled severely, almost tumbling down a flight of stairs I had managed to find despite my very probable and lingering tendency to collapse. There was absolutely no way I was going to make it—without incident—down the stairs, with the dark and the constant rocking of the ship. So, I snapped my head around, my vision was swaying, the dark corridor spinning with fierce force and speed. But I successfully spotted the outline of a square door.

It stood ajar.

And I warily stumbled in. The room was empty, silver tables and wooden chairs scattered around the room, some of the furniture was sprawled on the ground, uncared for. It was a small space, congested, and stuffed, air positively thick. I bolted the door shut, ensuring it would remain closed with a ladle jamming its hinges. And I collapsed, finally, into an upright chair. It was stiff and rigid and I was fidgeting every other second. But my mind wandered to my family again. When the times were simpler, few were those occasions, and we all cherished them. When Lucy had baked her first pie—I remember even now, the lush, absolute juicy smell of the fresh and pulp fruits she'd plucked herself from the gardens. When Susan had shoved five meals a day into my mouth—she said I was getting too thin, even scrawnier than Edmund; I had shaken my head, to be thinner than my brother and be alive was impossible. I remember, oh, I do! I don't know when the tears brimmed up and leaked out.

But I wiped my cheeks. My people were looking for me. No doubt, I would let him kill her, try her first, and then kill her. Kaios's foot squeezing my brother's throat flashed before me, her viscous eyes making my skin crawl in fear, in _fear_! I, who had battled against giants, warred against entire nations! I was afraid of a mere woman. But no matter, I told myself, my brother would find me, and mercilessly submit me to Susan's fussing, which I secretly appreciate. And Lucy would fuss silently, in a passive way, in the company of her attendants, but she would fuss. And Ed—

Oh, how I missed him. More than I missed Narnian soil, I missed him!

Lion-!

I would find _him_ , I decided. I could escape. Surely, the Galmans kept boats on deck?

_Please, Aslan. Please._

The clinking of metal alerted me. A slash. And a _whip!_ And I froze, drops of panic trinkling down my spine. The blade brushing my neck was suddenly drawn back and I smirked. The chair was kicked away before I was even completely standing on my feet. The dizziness made me sway but I kicked the attacker's knee, heard him curse in Galman, and had him pinned under my foot in two moves, the sword swept away.

"Who are you?" I said, pulling out Selene's knife from the pocket in my trousers—I wasn't wearing a belt. The man—or a boy—was evidently younger than me. Edmund's age? His clothes were half-torn and I would have guessed him a servant, had it not been for the sword he had wielded. Or was he a thief?

"Tvar," he replied suddenly, grabbing my attention again.

But where had I heard that name before?

"Galman?" I didn't give him time to reply. "Of course, I just heard you speak old Galman. A friend of Selene's then?"

"No, your Majesty."

I froze and blinked at the boy. _Your Majesty?_

"You know who I am?" I asked, tightening my grip on the knife.

The boy choked. "If you will please…" He writhed under my foot. "I can't breathe, your Majesty."

I apologized and helped him on his feet, knowing he didn't pose a threat. I picked the sword before he could. I fumbled with the blade awkwardly, not having a sheath. Wordlessly, Tvar retreated and I blinked into the darkness, squinting. Unexpectedly, he came back, appearing through an arched doorway that led to an even darker storage room, I assumed. He held out his hand, offering me a shirt and a sword belt. I stared blankly at him for a moment, then nodded, and helped myself.

When I had put on the shirt—it was rough and much darker than traditional Narnian shades—I looked at him. He helped me with the belt and prodded me numerous times with his elbow in the process. He offered me his sheath as well, and I accepted his kind aid. Then, adjusting the sheath on the belt, I said, "Why are you helping me?"

"You are the High King," he replied with a smile.

"Your loyalty lies with your King and his daughter, does it not?"

"It does."

"Then _why_ are you helping me?" He looked down. Oh. "What do you want in return?"

"A refuge in Narnia, my Lord," he said, looking up again. "My farms in Southern Galma died in the Winter, Majesty."

" _Your_ farms? You're not old enou—"

"Twenty, your Majesty."

I gaped. He was so skinny and frail. "Then you shall get it, Tvar."

"Oh, not for me, your Majesty!" he exclaimed, blushing fiercely. "For a friend of mine," he said oddly.

"But you said your farms had died."

"Exactly, your Majesty. They took him when I couldn't pay my taxes. I had hidden him for long, but discovery was imminent. They agreed to let me keep him as long as I paid extra taxes, but last winter, they took him."

Taxes. I wrinkled my nose. Lucy would swoon if our subjects were to pay _taxes_ to live and thrive in their own land. But I shook my head. "You speak of him as if he were a possession rather than a friend."

"That he is, your Majesty." He gulped. "A Griffin."

I gaped again. I only closed my mouth when understanding dawned on me, pieces of the mystery falling into place. "Tvar. That's the Griffin's name. A traitor!"

"No!" Tvar exclaimed. "He was a foal when he flew here with his father, his father was rogue, Majesty, not him. Please."

I nodded. "He is Narnian. One of my people. I promise him a safe return to Narnia, assuming that I live long enough to uphold that promise." I swallowed, scrutinising him. He was feeble, as if dying of an illness. Thin and frail and paler than my brother with a dark mop covering his head. "You shall be welcomed in Narnia, Tvar." He smiled. I smiled back. "Do they have boats on deck?"

A slap woke me. She was staring at me; eyes cloudy with an emotion I had not seen her wear. Fear? _Concern_? Love. I wished I could slap myself but I was too tired, besides my hands must be—

I was free.

I looked at her, unprotected, alone with me in a dark room. So, fear it was.

"What game is this?" I asked her, suddenly realising I was swaying lightly. And I was lying down. A hammock?

"Drink this," was all she said, shoving a steel vessel into my mouth. I gagged. But she forced the liquid past my lips. I spit the drug out. But it tasted—

"It's water."

I shook my head. "You're a monster."

"Yes."

"An _evil_ woman."

"Yes."

"Murderer."

"Yes."

"Then why?"

"Because sometimes," she cooed, pressing a sweet smelling cloth over my mouth, "I'm just Selene."

The venture continued in my dream.

I was walking with much more balance and strength, reassured by the weight of a sword hanging at my hip. It was heavier than Rhindon and nowhere near as sharp. But only its presence was enough to give me renewed strength at every turn.

Tvar had told me about the Griffin's whereabouts—he would be my carrier, the swiftest and safest way to Cair; I could already imagine Edmund's proud smile, Lucy and Susan's relieved laughs. Tvar the Griffin was locked Below Deck, near the quarters of the oarsmen. "It is a tricky path, Majesty. There will be soldiers looking for you. Are you sure you can go alone?"

I'd considered, only for a moment. But I couldn't risk the boy's safety. He would be executed for betraying the royal family. So, then, without hesitation, I'd said, "Yes."

And yet, after thirty minutes of wandering, ten partly calculated turns, opening four doors that I did not think of closing again, I was lost in the maze of corridors. I think I was going in circles, for that vast were the servant quarters of the ship. Defeated, I decided I needed to ask for directions. However, that was a poor choice for the first room I entered certainly did not belong to a servant. And there was sunlight. How was there sunlight this deep?

I gazed out of the window. The sea was endless, the blue waves rising and sinking below the surface rapidly. It was—

"The Captain's quarters."

I turned. "Well, I was going to guess a royal's, but…" I shrugged, maintaining the smug smile Ed had taught me.

The aging man I assumed to be the Captain grinned an unkind smile. "You think you're clever?"

"My brother says I'm a bottlehead."

The grin vanished and I longed for its presence, for it hid the hideous amount of rage on the man's face. "You hurt her."

I had already thrown the knife. But he needed only lean away to avoid it. Its blade dug into the wall.

"You think you're a soldier."

I swung my sword at his feet. He jumped, and dodged every subsequent attack effortlessly. And soon, still weakened from the drug, I was panting.

"You think you're a King."

I slashed the blade at his chest. He stepped away. I scrambled ahead clumsily. I felt like I was a novice, and Orieus was tormenting me in the Grounds again.

"You think you've fought battles."

Ignoring him further, I aimed for his head. It nicked at his skin. But inflicted no further damage. Before I could make another move, he kicked me in the shin. I screamed and he kicked me against the wall, twisting my wrist simultaneously. The sword fell quietly on the carpeted floor. He seized me by the collar, throwing me against the wall again. My ribs ached.

"But you. Are. Nothing. More. Than. A mere boy," he said with each punch. I was barely conscious when he began strangling me.

"And you," he laughed, "you don't deserve her."

I squirmed against the wall, clutching to the carpet as the pain in my throat increased exponentially with every second. He squeezed harder. I choked, my eyes stung with smoky tears. He only squeezed harder. My irises had rolled up, my head had limped to my shoulder, and I was waited for death, when the voice screamed, "Stop, Aviso!"

Instantly, as he withdrew his hands, I fell on the ground, coughing desperately, my eyes glued shut, making more tears leak out. I couldn't breathe!

"What have you done? She loves him!"

I didn't move when he shook me. Kaios.

_'Peter! Peter!' Lucy yelled for me, waiting on a small hill, her small figure silhouetted as the sun rose above the horizon. It was paradise, this place. 'Come on!'_

Someone shook me again and my teeth rattled. I was breathing. They pulled up my eyelids. But I didn't see anything.

_'No. Peter. Pete.'_

"Ed?"

_'Peter, please! She's—' He choked._

"Edmund!" I screamed, convulsing up to form a perfect arch.

_'What have you done?' Susan was yelling at our brother. 'You gave up!'_

_'He's gone,' was the solemn reply. 'There was no point.'_

"No!" I screamed again. "Come back! I'm here! Please come back! COME BACK!" But he'd sailed away. Away from me. He'd given up. I wanted to rest, too. But the people kept me alive. "LET ME GO! ASLAN!"

_"ASLAAAAAN!"_

"Wake up," the voice said harshly. I reluctantly opened my eyes. It was Kaios. "You need to eat," he spat. "Here." And he threw a tray on the table beside the bed. He rose and left before I could protest that I was bound.

So, I lay there, in the nightmarish reality, until the door opened and she came. With the _click-clack_ of her delicate leather boots, she walked to the bed. And in her eyes, I saw only contempt and viciousness, just the familiar malice. No concern or love. A dream.

"You were screaming for your brother," she said.

"Do you think I would scream for you?" I goaded.

She picked the knife from the tray as if she was plucking a flower. "Oh, I think you would." She traced the skin under my eyes carefully with the sharp side of the blade. I didn't dare move, or open my eyes. "Some places hurt worse than others."

She pulled out a hairpin, letting her hair fall in grace. She slowly slid it into my ear. "A torn eardrum can be especially painful."

I let just a single tear escape my eye.

"Scared already?" she asked. "Oh!" She jumped. "The tongue!"

I pressed my lips together, turning away. She laughed. "But then, how would you kiss me on our wedding day?"

I blinked. I tried to question, but she already had the cloth soaked with Sorontia covering my mouth. I breathed slowly, my eyes drooped close. She kissed me once briefly, then I felt her tie a blindfold around my eyes. The touch of her lips came back, harsher this time. "Come on," she hissed. But I didn't move.

"Come on!" she roared, sliding a hand under my neck, lifting my head. She kissed me again. "Peter, open your mouth."

I didn't move.

Tenderly, she planted another brief kiss on my lips. "Not yet then."

I felt the headboard shake when she thrust the knife into it. "You are mine, Peter. Mine."

And I was asleep, thinking how similar she sounded to Jadis.


	11. Chapter 11

**Selene**

The fields had been freshly sowed, the crops were sere and the trees were hemlock, painted in rue as the winter devoured the vegetation, drying the vines. The time was delicate, the fates of men on the brink of disaster, the walls of houses sundering one after the other as the storms grew fiercer, the winds bolder. And yet, these earthly quandaries that had left most in perplexity had not bothered me. For what my heart sought, what it craved, loved dearly and fiercely was beside me in times bleak and bare, times merry and unhappy; he was always present like a godly figure beside me, our hands linked, and—I blush and burn—bodies intertwined.

I remember tackling him once, sending us flying through the long plants of wheat sown in Western Galma. He'd laughed and laughed and laughed! He'd made me mindlessly titter, as we rolled down the steep hill—it led directly into a glassy lake preserved by the gods even in this winter. And we—oh, yes! we crashed into it. The water was warm and we had played like mere children of half our age, throwing and splashing handfuls of the warm liquid at each other.

The time passed pleasantly, the sun sank soon, and the naked eye could not see but the uncertain outlines of the trees that seemed like hovering phantasms.

We played until the moon rose. And tumultuous footfalls reached us in a whirlwind of seconds. It was my father, esteemed and eccentric, his court described him. My heart shrank and thinned to the size of a leaf, and I screamed as the King's men seized me, some toiling with a furnished carriage. The other men, my father's Guard had seized him, forcing him to kneel humbly before the King he had wronged. Oh, was it that terrible to love?

"No! Father, no!" I had screamed. "Ikàso!"

But in the mere blink of an eye, the sword had penetrated through his flesh, its blade protruding out of him, giving me a mocking glint. He fell. And I stilled. To pen my thoughts would be folly, for such devilish fury had possessed my frame then. But I remained quiet, looking up at my father.

"Daughter?"

"Father." I had nodded. And then without protest, I took my seat in the carriage.

I never wept for him.

* * *

Galma was mere hours away, the waves sinking enough to provide us humble travellers of the sea, the perfectly curved hills of Fiemàn, our capital. Spectators gathered around the deck, leaning on the railings as the sun beautifully immersed into the water, cutting into a half-circle, and then disappearing altogether to take the astounding painting back into the artist of the sea. The sun was gone, yet its light remained, glowing in the sky prodigiously.

I shivered as the sea wind fanned my cheeks and brought me to the full extent of my senses again. Yet I never noticed when the quiet and grave Kaios stepped beside me. I was only aware of his presence when he wrapped me in his cloak. I smiled in appreciation. He began the conversation.

"Are you nervous?"

I felt a rush of red in my cheeks, automatically understanding what he meant, his tone was perceptible. "Every woman looks forward to her wedding day, Kaios. All her life."

"Selene, that hardly answers my question."

I smiled, leaning closer to him. "Yes. Yes, I am nervous." I swallowed, looking down at my feet. "Was he—was Ikàso going to ask me to—"

"Yes," Kaios replied promptly. "He loved you."

I looked at the serene sea again, the waves had calmed as the temperature steadily dropped. "Your brother was a fool to love me, Kaios. And asinine to think he could hide it from my father."

"Not a day hath passed that my lips didn't call him a fool."

We laughed in unison, and then, "He still refuses to accept me."

"The King is a bigger fool than Ikàso," he replied. "Aviso thinks we should just slit his throat and invade Narnia when she is at her weakest."

I stared at him. "Do you agree?"

He hesitated. "Sel—"

"You don't approve of him," I said in bewilderment. He opened his mouth again, but I, worried I would throw him into the sea, was already walking away. He grabbed my wrist. "Let me go, Kaios," I said, trying to shake him off.

"Will you please just listen? Selene, I—"

"Your Majesty!" came a cry from our left, the taciturn Col came running to us, his face frantic and ruddy with fear. Fear of me. "The King, your Majesty. He—he—"

"Go on," I prompted calmly.

"H—he jumped into the sea, madam," he stuttered after several moments of heavy breathing.

I and Kaios exchanged one glance in consternation before running after Col—he'd already sprinted back into the direction of his appearance. He ran agitatedly, his perturbed emotions palpable. Presently, we reached the far west edge of the ship, beside the curling flight of stairs that led to the cabins below deck. If I was correct, we were standing just above Peter's cabin. The sea in front of us had turned black, showing just hints of early silver. The sea appeared malign to me, drowning my only means of escape. My love! Oh, Hisella!

The sea was calm, an eldritch appearance written over it. I looked at Kaios. And he, without a moment's hesitation, made a leap into the sea. "Kaios!" I screamed, my hands flailing uselessly in the air, catching nothing but the soughing wind.

I glanced down, he hadn't surfaced yet.

I turned to Col—he was shaking. "Fetch my sister and Aviso. Now!"

He ran. And I clutched to my chest, unaware of the thickening circle of anxious onlookers. I only stared at the sea. We were leaving them behind. "The sails! Bring down the sails, by the Lion!"

I bit my tongue, I hadn't meant to call to the Lion.

Minutes passed. Minutes! And there wasn't the slightest sign of either Peter or Kaios. I felt Fey slip an arm around me. But my heart was still hammering ferociously in my chest. "Who was the guard on duty?" I asked her, my eyes never left the sea.

"Col," she replied.

"Flay him."

They had already descended platforms down, metal chains bound them to the ship. But what was the use? – Oh, when there was no one to save!

"Please," I whispered. And the water suddenly splashed silver. Two heads bobbed out of the water, the waves pushing them towards the ship. "Go! Go!" I screamed at the men.

The moments passed in a frenzy and presently, I was on my knees beside Peter. He was blue and unbreathing. Kaios had been helped into a blanket. He dropped beside the King as well, and I watched him blankly as the Felana rubbed my arm.

He was beginning the compressions our healers had taught us when were mere children.

But I doubted they would work on a corpse.

"He wanted to die," Kaios said, pinching Peter's nose to breathe into his mouth. "Didn't let me bring him to the surface," he continued his tale in fragments as he began the compressions again. "Come on, you royal fool," he said in time with his compressions.

But Peter didn't breathe.

"We should send his body back, as a warning of what is to come," Aviso said.

"You sound like Tromin," said someone from the crowd. "The King is inviting war to our country! Breaking peace and for what?"

"Come on, come on, come on!" Kaios was yelling in the face of the dead King.

"Our King is not a coward like Amir!" Aviso shouted back.

"He murdered his brother!" the voice replied.

"And he rose to power! Unlike you worthless servants that don't know how to behave in the presence of royalty!"

"Come on!" Kaios shouted again.

"Amir was a fool!"

"Come on!"

"Tromin is not a real King!"

"SHUT UP!" my voice rose above the clamour of shouts. Everyone stilled except Kaios. Felana stood and went away. I only watched my King. "He's dead," I declared. "Tvar can fly him to Narnia, or maybe he'll come across their ship. I'm going to go flay Col."

"Come on!" Kaios was still shouting.

"Kaios!" I said. "He's dead."

Exhausted, he leant away from the King's body, still motionless and blue. "His brother will burn this country to ash."

"Send him," I said and stood up.

And just when I turned my back, a cough broke the absolute silence. And I whirled around. "Impossible," was all I whispered when the High King coughed out water from his lungs, the drained colour now returning to his face.

He hadn't even opened his eyes, and as I blinked mine, he was sat against the railing, Kaios's neck in his arms, delicately held, delicately broken. "Don't kill him," I said, slowly stepping towards the flustered King and calm Kaios.

"Stay away!" Peter growled. "Or I swear I'll snap his neck."

"Peter, he saved your life."

"STAY AWAY!"

I froze, everyone else was as still as a statue as well.

"My brother," he said with a gasp. "I want my brother. Now! Edmund!" he yelled, glancing around, searching the faces for his brother. "Ed! Eddie!" Tears fell. "Susan? Susan! No…Please…Lucy! Please! Where are they?" he asked me. "Where are my siblings?"

"Safe," said my sister's voice from behind me. Peter blinked, his grip on Kaios' neck loosening. "They're safe, Peter. In Narnia."

"Please. I just want to go home. I want to go home!"

He released Kaios. Felana stopped him from attacking the King with a silent gesture.

"Let me go home!" he begged as Felana prodded me with an elbow.

"What?"

"You can soothe him," she said.

"I'd much rather just cut his tongue out."

Peter had huddled against the railing, rocking with his knees pressed to his chest like a child, chanting his siblings' names in a cycle. "Please let me go home. Aslan, please."

I turned to Aviso and nodded.

Then I looked at Col, shaking like a frightened cat in one corner. "You," I said, "should come with me."

* * *

He was ruddy, pink as a new-born, honeyed ramparts falling, curling like vines around his neck. Aviso had been uncongenial, disagreeing that the King should live, but a lively glare from me—and he'd retreated back to his humble den. With the King made peaceful with Sorontia, I had gladly dragged a whimpering Col to the oarsmen's chambers. He had begged, prayed, whined, screamed, whimpered, and then sucked in his last breath after the torture—he was now a floating piece of Carrion for the coastal birds. After that, I had come here—here and nowhere else.

"Peter?" I whispered to him.

He remained prone.

"You know that I love you," I said, kissing his closed eyes. "When I am, I love you. We're almost there," I said, lying down on the bed beside him.

The landscape of the small island, Galma, was slowly towering above the ship, its lanterns shining through the morning fog. Fiemàn is the capital of Galma, its trade centre, and located in the middle Western Galma. In the next hour, we docked at its harbours.


	12. Chapter 12

**Peter**

My eyes felt as if they'd been glued shut, refusing to open. I swallowed a lump, my hands brushing past the bedding, searching for—

For what?

I jogged my memory. I had—Oh, Aslan! I was weak, prone, flustered and frightened! But I only wanted the small mercy of rest. Had only wanted a glimpse of home. Home! It felt like ages since I'd seen the walls of my chambers, the faces of my people, my friends, my family. They were gone. And I only—I needed them.

_'And death was the weak path.'_

My breath caught in my lungs. And I shook with my sobs. Of shame. Of relief. Of a palpable gratitude. It was him!

_'Courage. Courage even now.'_

I nodded vigorously and the air around my ears _whooshed._ I took some calming breaths and tried to relax my muscles. I was sore and aching, every inch of my skin was as cold as Jadis's Castle. But I relaxed.

Until the door creaked.

A timid voice said, "The servants have queued. And the carriage for your Majesties is here. Your uncle, the great Duke Malar is here as well."

I felt her warm breath against my ear and stiffened again. "It's time. Ev! Lia!"

When I finally opened my eyes and sat up, propped up oy my elbows, harsh and extreme sunlight had invaded the otherwise dark room through the narrow opening in the window. Ev and Lia suddenly flooded in and Selene nodded at them. She left the room wordlessly and the two girls giggled at me. I pulled up the covers to my chin and grimaced. The younger one—I mentally called her Ev—was rummaging through the wardrobe and Lia was holding a tray in her hands. She put it in my lap. I looked at her once and looked at the tray. The temptation and hunger were together too hard to resist and I took a bite of the honeyed toast without thinking. Lia frowned at me and at the fork and knife lying unused on the tray. I shrugged and sipped some of the tea.

When I had eaten and was satisfied, Ev seemed to have finally made up her mind—she'd been standing in front of the wardrobe, rubbing her cheeks thoughtfully. She pulled out a royal tunic. And I gaped.

It was unlike anything I had ever worn, higher than even Susan's standards. It was mahogany, with hints of scarlet woven into the fabric. The buttons were laurel leaves and, I suspected, were of gold. The embroidery might as well have been from a different world, with its intricate designs and stupendous and augustly delicate woven threads, as thin as the hair on my head. I closed my mouth when I realised the girls were giggling at me again, and told them that I was fully capable of dressing myself. When they frowned, I shooed them out and they followed each other like sheep.

I briefly considered trying to escape again, but twice I had done that, and both resulted in my near death. And now, when the whole Nation was awaiting me at the mouth of the ship, I was hardly equipped or even had strength enough to fight, or balance enough to sneak away.

I sighed.

Getting up from the bed, I realised I wasn't wearing a shirt. Again. I trilled my lips and opened the wardrobe, fetched myself a shirt, and dressed. There was a mirror at my disposal and I scrutinised my reflection. Susan would have swooned to see such a scene. I smiled and stomped my feet on the ground. I needed boots. And a new pair of trousers.

"Like it?" Selene's voice said.

I froze. And then turned towards the door. "No," I lied.

"I like it," she said, and threw at me the trousers and boots. She left, giggling.

I scoffed and dressed again.

When I stepped out, I almost ran back in. At least a hundred people had gathered, _on_ the ship. I wondered how many were waiting at the docks. Someone helped me in a silk coat as I walked forward, trying to ignore the judging eyes. My boots clacked rhythmically with the ground and I swallowed a thick lump. Then Kaios suddenly appeared through the crowd. I moved away from him but he grabbed my arm forcefully, beginning to drag me in the opposite direction of the path I was heading in.

"Going that way, people assumed you were planning on drowning yourself again," he said. I tried to shake free without attracting too much attention. "You didn't think once, did you? Not of your Kingdom."

"Shut up," I warned.

"So weak." I gritted my teeth, still trying to shake free. "I don't know what she sees in you."

"Neither do I," replied I.

He laughed.

Presently, we were descending the ramp that led to the wooden platform, extended above the shallow waters of the sea. The crowd here was, as I had expected, thicker and larger. But there were dispersed clusters, hushed and amused whispers ringing in my ear, the smell of freshly caught fish tincturing the air. I grimaced in disgust and Kaios practically pushed me down the rest of the way. The ramp ended abruptly, and my feet, expecting a raised ground, stumbled when they touched the lower platform instead. My leg twinged. I was steadied by sturdy hands and looked up to find Aviso's face.

I backed instantly and he withdrew his hands, scowling in abhorrence. Kaios grabbed my arm again, and I suddenly remembered I was not a guest but a prisoner, albeit valued. And he was ensuring I wouldn't escape. His grip was bruising and I urged him to loosen it but he only smirked crookedly. Then suddenly, the crowd thinned, the people collected in one corner, clearing a path.

And I heard Selene's voice shriek in a distance, "Uncle!"

When the wooden platform ended, and we set foot on the sandy ground, I caught a glimpse of Selene hugging an old man fiercely. But then I was shoved into a carriage. The horses whinnied and the door shut simultaneously.

The carriage was square, very large, furnished, and the wood polished and painted in dark brown on the inside. The seats were cushioned, and the fur decorating the headboards was sleek and glossy. There was a seat in front of me and two on either side. This might have been someone's room all the same. My brother's amused laughs echoed in my ear. Selene's voice shrieked Malar's name.

The carriage remained unmoving.

And I, exasperated, knocked on the door.

It opened instantaneously and Kaios's head poked in. "What?"

"Wha—What exactly are you going to do with me?" I asked awkwardly.

"You are dressed in most formal of clothing, sitting in the most pleasant of carriages, and are being treated as nothing less than the King you are. Do you think we are going to kill you?" Kaios said, looking amused. He smiled and the skin around his crooked nose twitched oddly.

"No. I think—I know you are going to do something much worse."

Kaios smiled again. "Ah, yes. We're going to marry you."

The door shut.

_Poor, dear brother of mine. What are you going to do now?_

"Shut up," I told my brother and kicked the seat in front of me. The dust on my boot's sole stuck to the seat's fur. And I smiled, satisfied with myself.

_Petty._

"Shut up, Ed. And you'd better hurry."


	13. Chapter 13

**Selene**

My mother's brother, Uncle Malar was eccentric and arcane, pooled with enigma and so many mysteries you couldn't begin to name them. Malar had come back from the Eastern Islands only days ago, and though ten years are an awing time to be at a soil foreign, peculiarly foreign even when the small rocks had been integrated into our Kingdom long ago. Yet, their noxious and pernicious governors had resisted the rule relentlessly. My Father's courtiers had offered to take the governorship, thinking the King a fool—foolish enough to not know their intentions. Ruling as a governor would soon turn into ruling as sovereign. And my father had been pertinacious.

Even now, almost a fourth of our army was stationed at the Eastern Beach, ready to attack, should the calamity of another civil war arise.

I bowed to my uncle, curtsying eloquently. Uncle Malar embraced me tightly, and I held on with an equal ferocity. Then it was Fey's turn and I backed, letting her, too, squeeze our poor, old Uncle Malar. I had not realised, until now, until my own people had surrounded me in clusters, how much I had really missed this soil, the smell of wet mud tangible in the air, the crash of crumpling waves with the wooden planks set parallel to the fishing boats.

When Aviso came up beside me, I asked him, "Peter?"

"Is that all you can ever say?" he teased good-naturedly.

But I frowned. "In the carriage?"

"Yes."

I reached the large vehicle in five long strides, my boots inviting grains of wet sand to spiral up, many sneezed around me, but did not falter to wave. The absolute pulchritude of the carriage made me self-conscious of my own fairness, such was the dazzle and radiance of its white wood. When I opened the door, I strongly expected Peter to crash me into the ground and make another futile and fatal attempt at escaping. But he simply scooted to one side, staring out of the small square opening on the door at his side. I smiled and sat beside him, closing the door gingerly. He inched further away but I reached to grab his hand.

" _Don't_ ," he hissed poisonously.

My hand slowly crept away, two fingers walking away from the hand he'd tucked under his leg. The carriage rolled forward with a sudden, unexpected thrust and my upper body shot back in the reaction. Peter smirked a snake's vile grin, and then looked out of the window again. My lips twitched to form a pleasant smile, and his muscles tensed under my stare.

"Stop it," he said.

"Stop what?"

"Stop staring at me like that."

"Some men like that, you know." He scoffed and looked away. "You're rather odd that way." He pretended to ignore me, though his hands curled into fists. I moved closer. "Or are you still a boy?"

I caught his finger and he flinched.

" _Don't!_ " he warned again.

"Or what?" I asked, pulling up his hand to my cheek, guiding his fingers to tuck back my hair. "Don't you—don't you wish?"

He turned away, but I cupped his face. "Don't you want it too?"

He stiffened, shutting his eyes. "Stop."

My lips caught his ear. His breaths hitched and he squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt me. "Stop!"

"You can push me away," I said, planting tender kisses on his neck. "Push me away."

He didn't. And I smiled, wiping his teary eyes. I sat on his lap and he wept, his head lolling back on the cushion. He was crying. But why? I wiped his eyes with my thumb and lifted his head up. He was still crying. "Please stop," he begged, voice hoarse.

"I can't. And I know neither can you."

I kissed him. And for the first time, he kissed me back. He'd tried to protest, tensing, inching back. But soon, he gave in. I relished in the touch, pleasuring, revelling, drowning in the taste, invading his mouth, and letting his tongue slip into mine. He smelled of toast, tasted of honey, and I ran my hand through his hair. I cherished and pleasured, drinking it in. Until he shoved me away. I groaned when I hit the door and had still to recover, when he jumped out.

"Peter!"

My scream halted the carriage. And I hastily stepped out as well.

We had only left the docks, and rounded up to the Varalace terrain. My eyes searched for him, and there he was, trapped under Aviso's capable and strong arms, crying bitterly and hoarsely, hazily visible amidst the clouds of spiralling dust. The locals had stepped out, watching curiously, squinting through the dry sand of the valley.

"Stop struggling! I don't want to break your nose with the wedding so close!" Aviso was yelling.

"Aviso!" I said, my guards had grouped behind me, escorting me towards the present threat. Kaios and Felana also stepped out of their carriage. "Tie him," I said, kneeling beside the piteous King. "I will have him. But as a husband."

Peter lay gasping on the sand, befuddled whispers were circling around with thin strings of incoherent words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" he kept chanting. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry!"

Kaios was hovering above us, shadowing us from the early light. "What happened?"

"He kissed me."

"I'm sorry, Aslan!" Peter screamed. The guards formed a thick circle around us.

"And why is he apologising?" Felana asked, crouching down beside me.

"Precisely because of that."


	14. Chapter 14

**Peter**

She was delicious.

As sweet as the richest wine from the Marshes, her lips just as lush to touch as they were to the eyes, her hair felt like crude silk in my hands, and her tongue in my mouth warm enough to remind of my hearth's roaring fire, and she was tempting just as much.

And I, weak and raw in my soul, fell to that temptation. I stumbled and tumbled upon evil, let my selfish, mortal desires mold and break my soul, pierce my courage, and burn the control in the flames of lust.

Weak.

I was weak.

Aviso rolled me to my chest, his grip harsh and brutal and unloving. He despised me and he showed it passively. I writhed as Kaios pinned my legs and Aviso tied my wrists behind me. They hauled me to my feet, sturdy arms locked with mine, dragging me forward like a goat being taken to be slayed. I growled at them, thrashing, but they merely pushed me towards the armoured guards. And the men shoved me into the carriage. The door closed and locked and I lied down.

She was delicious and tempting.

And I too weak to resist it, the lusting desire.

No.

No, I wasn't strong. Not as my brother was.

It was the winter after Edmund's seventeenth birthday, and my dear loving brother was finally of marriageable age—at least, by Ovorphion standards. Ambassadors from Ovorph, the distant island nation had visited last year. And to my and my siblings' delight, they were open-minded and a party not uncongenial. Our views matched on several topics. Rumours of advanced war machinery building in Ovorph had travelled to the East Coast years ago, and their sole female ambassador took liberty to broach the subject. We wined and dined lavishly in the Eastern Hall, sounds of celebrations filling our ears. And I, under the infliction of wine, never noticed Edmund's discomfort.

Not when he spilled the wine, and then hastily left the table to fetch a dry cloth, but Susan had implored him to sit down. Not when he hissed and squeaked, receiving suspicious glances, only to give them a dismissing wave. Not when his face flamed red, and knuckles blanched around the glass he was gripping tightly. Not when he whispered my name. I had only squeezed his hand, ensuring the party would end soon. But when he'd teared up and left abruptly, I resolved to go after him.

Susan stopped me.

And soon, I was dining with my friends and family, having not another care. I didn't notice when the female ambassador left.

That night, ready to collapse on my bed and fall into a dreamless slumber, I was sauntering through the west corridor of our Wing. I passed by Edmund's door, thought if I should check on him, but judged by the silence that he was fast asleep. I had turned the knob to my room when the growl came.

_"Get out now!"_

I, along with the guards on duty, was already running towards his chambers when a flustered and very improperly dressed ambassadress was pushed out of the room. My eyes widened at her sight.

 _"Leave,_ " had said my brother's voice, still invisible beyond the door. A bundle of clothes was thrown at her. And the door clamped shut.

I watched her, befuddled, as she hastily wrapped herself in a robe and was then carefully escorted away by Edmund's guards. My own guards persisted to stay with me, but I dismissed them. "Send Achemus," I said before they left, knowing Edmund needed a friend.

But I, as a brother, had to try.

"Ed?" I said, knocking at his door.

The door opened, unexpectedly, and I stood frozen for a second. Before he threw himself at me and cried out his griefs. He only slept after talking to Achemus for almost an hour.

I knew then: he was stronger than me. He always was. _Always._

Presently, I sat up clumsily and straightened when the door opened. Surprisingly, Kaios maneuvered his large body in through the narrow door.

"Ah," he said, finally managing to be stuffed in, and closed the door promptly. He looked at me.

"What?"

The carriage rolled forward in answer and I could do little to counter the force with my hands tied. My head bashed mercilessly against the seat behind me. The fluffier cushions saved me from the worst, but some of them were stone-hard. I growled in frustration, kicking the seat in front of me again. An identical boot-print was drawn beside the first one. And I smiled in satisfaction again. But no Edmund teased me this time.

"Child," said Kaios.

"I'm sorry?" I feigned surprise, but the insulted look was true.

"You're a child," he repeated with conviction. "A fool to refuse Selene. A fool to then _cry_ after knowing the pleasure to have her to yourself." He sighed. "Turn around. your coat is covered in mud."

"No."

He sighed again, exasperated. "Trust me, King. you don't want to look like a slave in front of Tromin."

* * *

Truly, Galma was a beautiful country. The journey from the docks to the palace was long, and we passed several terrains, crossed a slanting hill, and followed a curved path around a mountain I did not know had existed.

The Varalace valley, where I had fallen to temptation, was only the barest glimpse of the extent of the allure. The valley was barren, the river cutting along the mountain's path had long so dried, leaving a shallow chasm that ran across the rolling hills surrounding the valley. The place was dusty and the white houses almost too luminous and bright to be looked at. But the beauty, however, lay in the small patches of green protruding out of the most unexpected and uncertain places. Like a rose blooming in the desert. A river to quench the wanderer's thirst. The likelihood of finding the green, dancing trees was slim. And that made every sight special.

The valley ended in a smoother and plainer terrain, with almost no hills in sight. The clouds soared above idly as we crossed the open grassland. With no trees to shadow us from the sun, the riders hissed and growled in the heat and the itch from the sun's scorch. We stopped, at Aviso's command and Malar's evident dismay. The riders and the horses were allowed water and they drank it hastily enough to choke. Then soon enough, before I could even set my mind on a possible escape route, we were galloping again, watching the blades of grass as they lashed to and fro beautifully in the wind blowing inland from the sea. I wondered, oh, yes, I did, if this was the wind aiding my siblings' sail. Had they discovered Selene's trickery? Were they, at this very hour, sailing to Fiemàn, to me, for my freedom? Or were they too far? Had they given up? I shook myself. Nonsense.

_'He's gone…there was no point.'_

My sobbing breaths made Kaios turn. "Miss your family?"

I turned away, determined to not let him see my tears.

Gazing out of the window, I realised we were out of the grassland and ascending up a slope. Oaks surrounded us as we followed a crooked path up the hill. I spotted wild beasts there: a golden deer was drinking water from a small lake when it flinched at our sight and vanished into a thicket. A bear, beavers, rabbits, tigers, robins and ravens, and—And _lions_. They, of course, did not share even a fraction of Aslan's sheer glory. But I felt—oh, I felt the air thin and my tears dry. I felt peace, knowing, _knowing_ He was with me. Always.

After the hill, we followed a circular path around a mountain. Its peak was hidden beyond the clouds its sheer height surpassed. I had poked my head out of the small window, staring at the clouds as we passed. But Kaios pulled me back in, rolling his eyes and huffing at me. I frowned and continued to gaze out of the window, rubbing the glass that he'd rolled up with my tied hands. Fog hovered low above the ground. The trees were damp with dew and I shivered in the cold, even with the coat on.

Kaios offered me his cloak but I declined his offer. He shrugged and wrapped it around himself securely, as if jeering me over my own foolish pride.

I then rested my head against the window and closed my eyes.

And I slept.

I woke to a weight dropping heavily against my arm. I was still dizzy and hazed, and my tired mind assumed the most probable possibility. "Ed. Eddie, it's time to wake up," I said with my eyes still closed, trying to shake my brother awake.

 _You wake up first, you dolt_ , I'd expected him to say.

"Not your brother and _certainly_ not 'Eddie'."

I jostled awake, startling away from him. But the cloak wrapped around me restricted my movement. My hands had been untied. He stretched his hands and pulled up his feet to rest on the seat in front of us, crossing them at the ankle, yawning loudly.

The carriage was darker than I remembered and I realised dusk was breaking through the sky.

"We stopped for two hours when you were asleep," Kaios said, resting his head on his crossed arms, closing his eyes. "We're almost there. So, you might want to make that crow's nest look regal."

"What?" I said, confused. But then I realised. The cloak dropped on the seat as I pulled out my hands to comb my dishevelled hair.

Kaios opened one eye to look at me. "We could be friends, you know. If you could only see her for who she _really_ is."

He closed his eye again. I stared at him. "She tried to burn my _only_ brother _alive_."

"She could have burned the whole castle."

I clenched my fists, supressing the wish to punch his teeth out. "She drugged me, tortured me—"

"She hasn't so much as cut you. Even after you stabbed her."

"She—she—that girl! Razia!"

"Razia has been taken care of. She's alive."

"But she—she—she—"

Kaios opened his eyes and turned to me. "She what, Peter? Yes, yes, she's cruel. She's viscous and likes to kill people. But when she loves, she just loves. If you accept her, you can have your family and kingdom back. you can have your freedom back. And you can have _her_. The greatest prize there is."

I shook my head. "You can't fool me. Why do you even try? I know you want Narnia. She wants Nar—"

"No, Peter. Her father does." He closed his eyes again and settled on his seat, crossing his legs again, head dropping back with a content sigh. "But _she_ only wants you."

I rebuffed him and he shrugged. I wrapped the cloak around me again, then realised it was Kaios's, and squarely threw it at him. He never moved. I rolled my eyes and rubbed the window to get rid of the dew.

When I could see through the evening darkness clearly, I gaped.

I was sure the castle had not been _that_ big five years ago.

My eyes shifted to the iron gates standing open with so many people awaiting our—no, _my_ arrival.

And there, back straight as a pole, I saw the King Tromin. He looked somehow older than the last time I saw him. Mere days ago.

"That man," hissed Kaios without moving or opening his eyes, "will be your death."


	15. Chapter 15

**Selene**

I was afraid of my father to an extent that his mere presence was enough to chill my frame. I shall not expound on his personality. For the ink is limited and the pages ending. But succinctly, he was a true king. Yes, he was unmerciful and—oh, yes, malignant like the demon that resides in my mind. But a king indeed, for he was true to his word. He never denied help to anyone who—in his thought—deserved it, and never pitied the foul souls who dared commit follies against the Imperial rule. King Tromin, as his court described him, was esteemed and eccentric. Nowhere on the Galman soil will you find a truer king, or a crueller spirit.

But he _loved_ me, to a degree, that might be, by some, described as _unhealthy_.

And he had and would kill for his eldest daughter, even if it is the love of my life. His intentions were pure, he'd said. His love hadn't withered, he'd said. I was too young to know good and evil, he'd said. And I'd nodded my head strenuously, ensuring him I was alright. And I was. I never wept for Ikàso. For when he left me, the fiend weaved in again. No more was I true and pure. I was devilish. My deeds were malevolent. My mind malign. But still, everything, all my world, had revolved around his mere form. And the sorrow and mourn I held in my heart had never melted through tears. It still clawed at me and pricked jeeringly at my soul.

Felana squeezed my hand once as I, as elegantly as I could in my tensed state of mind, stepped out of the carriage that I and my sister had shared. I gathered up my skirts in my hand, pulling them up so they wouldn't brush past the muddy ground, and waited for Fey to join me. When she was beside me, I offered her my hand, and she took it.

And then soon, our father was standing straight-back in front of us, scrutinising us cautiously, as if looking for any signs of imperfections, an improper demeanour, or injuries and discomfort. I stroked his cheek, urging him to look at me. I smiled appealingly, knowing that if he saw the slightest sign of my current distress, Peter would likely not see light until our wedding. I locked my arm with his and my father's Guard ushered us into the castle. Once inside, he left me and waited.

I watched the gates anxiously and looked back when I felt an elbow prod me.

"Phesine! Zar!" I said, embracing them as one. "Where is Leoma?" I asked my handmaidens, frowning to not find my eldest attendant anywhere. "Oh, is she sick again?"

"Yes, my Princess," Phesine said. I smiled at her calmness. She did not know I had reverted. "But she will be there to attend you on the day of the wedding! Oh, the castle has been preparing for it for a week! It will be grand! Majestic!"

"Indeed," said Zar, smiling.

When Kaios appeared beside me, I asked, "Uncle Malar?"

"He left to find his son. His guards informed him that Srif has found another deck of cards. And a _reasonable_ better."

He rolled his eyes and then quickly backed, being led away by the soldiers on duty. He greeted them as "mates!" and went away.

"Sel," said my sister as she nudged me gingerly.

I turned to see Peter being escorted in, both arms held by my guards. Aviso was following closely. My father's guards formed a semicircle around him, leaving only a small opening for him to see Peter. The men that held him shoved him forward and he clashed—yes, clashed! with my father, nose to chest. Instantly, the captain, Osgar, threw him on the ground, a sword already glinting silver in the moon's shine against his blanched throat. Peter groaned, muttering Narnian curses. Osgar raised his brows at him. As Fey giggled beside me, I only watched my father, his face stern, not a sign of composure. Peter then, still murmuring curses, clumsily stood up and dusted his mud-ridden coat.

He looked Osgar in the eye and the thick circle of spectators watched him apprehensively. "I might be your prisoner, but I am a king." He looked at my father. "And you have no right, Tromin."

"Oh, by the river. Did he just—" Phesine whispered behind me.

"Shush," I said.

Father straightened even more and Peter looked significantly smaller in front of him, especially when surrounded by my father's guards, all almost twice his size. Osgar seized his arms and he thrashed against him. Then, in a frenzied moment, Peter kicked the captain in the knee, and Osgar was sent hurling back. Everyone froze, and Peter, now free, punched the captain, and then kicked his ankle to destabilise him. And Osgar fell. The guards began forward but Aviso told them to stop.

"I _said_ , you have _no_ right," Peter said, looking down at the fallen captain. Then he offered him his hand. I smiled, knight and noble.

But Osgar was anything but noble, he was pugnacious and belligerent and conceited. Offended now, the captain clasped Peter's hand in his and pulled him down with brutal force. And presently, he was standing above the fallen Peter, a booted foot on his back. Peter blew out sand.

"Brutes," he hissed, squirming.

I looked at my father. He nodded at Osgar. And the captain struck Peter's skull with a knife's hilt. The King fell silent.

I shook my head. "Father—"

But he turned. "Take him to the dungeons."

When he was gone, escorted by his Guard and the captain, two guards lifted Peter, flinging his arms around their shoulders. He dropped limply between them. As they began moving, I said, "Wait."

I held up his face in my hands, kissed him once, and said, "Not the ones underground. Please."

The guards nodded and left with the King.

I followed with my attendants and Felana shortly after, leaving the spectators to disperse, ready to spread the word throughout the Western Galma.

* * *

My chambers possessed the same lushness and glossy walls, the beguiling charm, and the monotonousness. I stepped in as Zar opened the doors further, giving me a wider view of the space. The bed was undisturbed, but the sofas had been alternated. The mirror with obsidian borders reflected the sea-blue tapestries, depicting the lakes of Southern Galma. The balcony was open and Phesine rushed to close it. My sister came in after me and seemed to have an admiration for the paintings that hung above my bed. They were nothing more than blue lines running along a white canvas. I despised them. But Fey jumped over the bed, Zar and Phesine gasped. I, on the other hand, could not stifle a laugh. It had been years that we laughed heartily and out of joy. She invited me to join her but I politely demurred.

"Cara would have," Felana murmured under her breath but I heard her.

"Cara is dead," I said coldly. And she went quiet.

As Phesine helped me into a thick robe, I sat on the cushioned stool, judging with aversion the dishevelled curls of my hair, the knotted ends, and the tiresome, sunken skin. Understanding my distaste, Zar picked a brush, while Phesine urged me to close my eyes so she could treat my weary and pallid skin. I could hear Fey as she swung her feet to and fro on the bed. I sighed. And Phesine waited until I went still to continue administering Vkhai's juice over my skin, massaging slowly as it sank in.

Stilly, I said, "What is on your mind, dear sister?"

Felana must have jumped up for Zar gasped and I heard the bedsheets rustle against each other, the bed groaning in protest. "I just—Would you—do you think—" She took a deep breath. "Do you really think we can keep him here?"

"Once we're married, of course," I said. "We would be bound by law."

"Galman law," she pointed out. "I don't think his kingdom will—"

"That's enough, Fey," I said calmly, not wanting to disturb Phesine. Felana remained silent for some time. Until she spoke again.

"But he won't even agree to marry you. Without the groom—"

" _That's enough!_ " I roared, startling both of my maidens. They hurried to one corner and stood there, heads bowed humbly, as I addressed my sister. "He doesn't love me. But why should that be a reason that he wouldn't marry me?" Felana's brows knitted together over her eyes. "A man who loves too much is a man weak," I said and turned back.

Zar and Phesine hastily resumed their positions and continued their work.

Felana left.

And almost half an hour had passed when Zar said, "He does have the bluest eyes."

All three of us stilled and I turned to see her flame red and blanch white at the same time. It was meant to be a quiet thought, but the tongue slipped. I turned back; she sighed in extreme relief, and began braiding my hair. Phesine went to fetch my clothes from the wardrobe.

"When Leoma comes back," I told her.

And Zar wept as the braid weaved.


	16. Chapter 16

**Peter**

I woke to a hand prodding me in the side. I groaned when my head twinged atrociously. So, I'd been knocked out. Again. Turning to my side, I opened my eyes and found the blackest eyes staring back at me. Other than the white pool of the figure's eyes, nothing but the dark was visible. He stood up and hazy outlines of his frame moved back. Something glinted sharply and I blinked as he gestured towards the metallic thing he'd just kicked. Then he placed another metallic thing next to it, and through the small door on his right, left promptly. I blinked again. And as the darkness faded away and my blinking eyes could make out the cell I was locked in, I recalled.

I had punched the Captain of Tromin's Guard. The brutes! He had no right! But I sighed. I'd been stupid. If I had though carefully, acted carefully, I could impress the King, postpone the wedding to a much more preferable date. Give my kingdom time. Give myself time. I tried to remember more. It was like bubbles of memories were floating away and I managed to catch only some. I remembered the sharp pain—I touched the back of my head and it came back with a crimson patch. And I remembered her lips on mine again. I closed my eyes, swallowing, resisting. The guards had made a long trek, had carried me through the corridors. I remembered stone-grey passing me rapidly as I lay limp between them. But past that, my memory could serve me no more. They must have put me here, in the dark, to rot. I'd been captive before. But most times, I was awaiting death the next morning, not my wedding. Oh, Aslan! _My_ wedding! It didn't matter, I told myself. I would simply refuse to marry her. I could bet Galman laws couldn't force the groom into marriage. Hopefully.

I finally sat up, groaning as the blood seeped into my collar, ruining my muddy coat further. I realised I was sitting on a bunk —or a bench. Stone-hard. My hand found the metallic chain that held it up, its hook locked into the ceiling. There was high window, supplying moonlight to the room. My vision cleared further and I stood up on the bench, bracing my sore legs for my weight. I clasped the iron bars and tried to poke my head through the narrow gap. I only managed to get my nose through. The only visible things were the moon and a silvery river running downhill. It was very wide and I could see the grassy terrain on each of its sides. The river was significantly far from me, almost a line of a silver paper. I propped up on my toes and tried to gaze down, closing one eye and trying to, futilely, poke my head through. I saw the castle walls and a four-hundred feet drop. Instantaneously and with inhuman speed, I sat back on the bench. Heights are not my strength.

My brother laughed in my ear and I rolled my eyes. Sitting up straight, I realised the walls were stone and some unknown letters had been carved on them. I assumed them to be Galman but couldn't help wonder if that one scribble was Narnian— _Sorry_. Then my eyes flew to the metallic tray the figure had kicked minutes ago. There was food, if you could call it that. A stale loaf of bread and some milk, partly frozen. But nevertheless, I was hungry, and I would not refuse an offer, as unkind as it maybe. I began towards it, but realised I was bound. Mercilessly, I was bound. There was cuff around my ankle, chained into the wall.

Then I remembered the other clink, the other metallic thing the figure had dropped near the tray. It was a key. There to only mock me. As was the food. They knew I would try and fail and were probably laughing about it in their rooms. But I wasn't going to give up. I tugged on the chain once. It was too hard and solid to break. I leaned ahead, my flailing hand reaching for the tray. But it was useless. The distance was too great. Perhaps if I tried sprawling?

 _And you could become Tromin's dog!_ Edmund chastised me.

I snorted and lied down on the hard bench. And tried to sleep. But the twinging in my head was growing, and the blood had soaked my back now. I tried to feel the wound and shrieked at the burning sensation of my cold fingers against the bare skin. My head was bleeding profusely and if I slept, I doubted I would wake up again. So, I lay there, staring the cracked ceiling, trying to understand how the chain had been hooked into the stone and if the bench would tolerate my weight for long.

Suddenly, a peculiar sound reached me. Like grains of sand grinding against your boot's sole. Or two rough stones rubbing against each other. It was close and I sat up, glancing around curiously. A subtle movement caught my eye. And I started away. It was a stone brick, slowly being pulled back. I waited and watched even more curiously as the brick was slowly pulled out completely, leaving an opening in the wall. I peeked through. And saw an equally curious eye staring back at me.

I startled back, screaming softly.

"Who—wha—what in the—" I stuttered.

My eyes widened when a scarred hand poked out of the hole in the wall. It waved and I stared disbelievingly.

"Aren't you going to shake it?"

Oh. I approached warily and then subtly and briefly shook the hand. Then it was withdrawn and I breathed a sigh. "Who are you?" I asked, and my lonely voice echoed in the cell.

"An old man," the voice answered.

I peeked through but there was nothing to be seen except darkness. And a very blurry figure, resting against the wall. I gulped and sat back on the bench, and said, "Tromin imprisoned you, too?" For some time, there was only a very sharp silence.

But the man spoke up, "That was my misfortune, yes."

"Did you—did you punch one of his guards?" I teased, hoping to amuse the dreary man.

But his voice dulled and dried further, "No. It was—it was a family feud. My brother, you see, he is an ambitious man. He was younger and wanted—wanted my— _larger_ share of the—the—estate. He is a kind man of heart, though, you see. Or he would have killed me. He devised a different way to…you know." Silence. And I opened my mouth to sympathise with the man but he said, "Do you have brothers, good sir?"

I smiled. "Only one. He's too much trouble himself, sir."

"Younger then?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I found mine once, wrestling with the pigs on our farm. I would have stopped him but he seemed to be winning." A laugh. "Do you have any stories about your brother, sir? To pass the time, you see."

I considered. "Well, there are many," I said thoughtfully, "but I know just the right one."

 _Don't you dare,_ Edmund hissed.

"Oh, I will," I said, laughing.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing, sir. Well, in the first summer of the first year of our re—" I paused sharply. "—of the first year," I said and could almost hear as the man's brows went up, "my brother found a hedgehog and…"

I recounted the time Edmund had found and rescued and brought home, with great pride, a hedgehog. The hedgehog was dumb as were most creatures from the valleys in the Western Mountains. It was a cute and small little thing, hardly large enough to completely fit in your hand. I think that is why Lucy took an instant liking to the animal. Its eyes almost glowed with the profound adorableness it possessed, and the extremity of its smallness and tendency to lure any idle passers towards it had bothered me. But the extent of that botheration was tiny to the dread I felt when my eyes suddenly found the spines protruding out of its hard skin. It was an irrational fear but I swear on my life it hissed at me and then bared its teeth when I came to wake Edmund on the days Tirius visited his home. It envied me, I say. But Edmund was not convinced and waved his hands to dismiss the absurd matter.

I let it pass also and the days passed drearily and dully. On those days, we had already defeated most of the Witch's army's remnants, and more forces would take a considerable time to rise. It was not until then that I realised that I, quite really, missed the battles and the rush of adrenaline and the ferocious pumping in my veins. Boredom, it seemed, would be the death of me. But Edmund didn't seem, at all, bored. He spent entire days _pampering_ that little creature of his. Most times, Lucy would join him, and would giggle gleefully when the hedgehog shivered as she tried to pluck its spines.

Susan shared my sentiment. "Lucy doesn't like to spend time with me now," she said to me one morning as we sipped tea. "That thing is dreadful! She's afraid of bugs, but she can tolerate such a dangerous beast?"

I had laughed.

Weeks passed and the monotonousness of the castle only grew worse. But my brother was, of course, still oblivious to the bored moods of our cooks, captain and lieutenants, soldiers, guards, attendants, and servants. It was the fifth day of the third week of _Ilosium_ , the very best day of my life. And I have _three_ younger siblings. It was that day that finally rid us of the hedgehog.

The hedgehog, Ukia, and a 'she' apparently, was napping comfortably on one of the sofas of the Large Eastern Balcony. Susan had called us for a late evening tea. We all took our seats on the table, but Edmund, feeling sore from a recent exercise in the Grounds, decided to sit on the sofa. And you will never guess…

"He sat on the hedgehog?" the man guessed from his cell.

I burst out laughing so loud the birds sitting on the window flew away with a start. Clutching to my stomach, I sprawled, undignified, on the hard ground, still _roaring_ with laughter. I wiped my eyes and managed to continue the conversation between laughs, "Oh…Sir…my good sir! The spines…the spines, sir! They stuck!"

To this, the man laughed as well.

I finally sat up, settling against the bench, shaking with an occasional bout of laughing. "He couldn't sit for a week! And couldn't sit without fidgeting every other second a month! I tell you, sir, it was the best day of my life!"

He chuckled softly and then said, "What happened with the hedgehog?"

"Oh, she was returned to the Mountains, sir, where my brother had found her while gathering the sheep," I said, amused at the thought of my brother as a shepherd. "To a hedgehog family. We do think she was their missing child."

I stopped laughing and silence sharpened and stretched between us. The amusement faded from my mind soon as I realised, with a surprised, abrupt jerk, that I was not home. I was imprisoned in Galma and these people meant to _marry_ me to the woman who had almost killed the same brother. In his embarrassment of that day, I took pleasure. But I cannot deny it hurt me profoundly when he had cried in his pain. I lied down on the stone bench, refraining myself from feeling homesick and desperate again, from feeling the need to see my siblings and my people. And I slept, the pain and danger of my head wound forgotten.

It was not a prodding elbow or the ferocious twinge of my head, but a soft groaning sound, one indicating pain and its endurance, that woke me. I had thought I was dreaming, another one of those dreadful nightmares. But the sound grew more and more distinct, cutting through the haze and tiredness of my sleep. I still refused to pay more attention but a soft scream eliminated any possibility of getting more sleep. I sat up, still dizzy but much more aware, and gazed around, looking for the source of the distant moaning. I turned sharply when I realised why the moaning was faint. It was reaching me through the wall, permeating in the air were its remnants. I gulped and leaned down. The brick had been replaced into the wall. I took it out, cautiously.

There were three figures in the cell this time, two standing, and one cowering into the wall, and all men, I judged by their dark outlines. The moonlight spilled in from the window in that cell and I saw the menacing smiles the standing men, the scars on their faces. Soldiers. They punched the third man. Abusers. I gasped. The kindly old man in the next cell was the one being beaten up, I realised suddenly. I looked around frantically. I tried to reach for the door but the cuff stopped me. I grunted and picked a stone from near me. I threw it through the opening in the wall. By my luck, it struck one abuser's temple, who in turn bashed heads with his companion. I smirked.

But moved back when the two suddenly found the hole and slowly moved towards me. One closed his eye, and peered through the hole, squinting in the dark. He saw nothing as I had attached myself to the wall adjacent to the hole. I threw another stone through the opening. The man shrieked and there was a lot of Galman swearing before I heard the door to the other cell opened. I moved back when the door of my cell opened and in came the same scarred and grinning soldiers.

"You," one said, "will regret it."

I was already regretting my stupid actions—the other man had pulled out a whip. But I refused to cower before them. I stood up, ready to fight if I must. But instantly stumbled when my head twinged brutally, my mind swirling, vision swaying. The men laughed and one pinned me against the wall.

"Don't," I hissed at them, not as a plea, but a bold command.

"Who is he?" the one with the whip asked.

"Don't know. But must be valuable if he's up here," the other replied.

"Twenty lashes wouldn't do much harm to the boy."

"Don't!" I yelled when he turned me towards the wall, shoving my face into the bricks. "Don't," I said again.

"You could ask nicely," said one, rolling the whip's end around his palm.

"Don't do it," I said.

"Please?" they mocked.

"No," I replied.

"Well then…"

And they dealt me the first lash.


	17. Chapter 17

**Selene**

Zar's tears had taken the form of a steady stream when the braid was finished and she hurriedly stumbled out of the room. Phesine lingered. She had prepared the water for my bath and helped me out of thick robe. Inside my bathing chambers, I let her undress me and then aid me into a bathing robe. Gingerly, I dipped my toe into the water, judging the temperature, conscious that my handmaiden was close to biting her nails in nervousness. But finding the temperature just of the right degree, I gave her a gentle smile and walked the steps to lower myself into the water. Completely immersed, I beckoned Phesine to come near. Carefully ensuring the freshly weaved braid remained a safe distance from the water, she helped me wash. Once done, she moved to the nails, carefully manicuring them with a clipping tool our master engineer had invented and sold to us for no price at all. When I was satisfied, I stepped out of the bath, and Phesine helped me with a towel and another robe. Back in my room, I bid her goodbye and dressed.

My gown was the same mahogany Peter had worn that day, the absolute ravening desire it evoked in me, the extreme lushness it gave him. I had wished for a similar, but feminine clothing. The tailors had worked at such a pace that one could claim they had magically made it appear from thin air. The sleeves were loose and sagged down from my arms, their laces dangling and floating in the wind as it rushed in through the small gap between the window frames. Not a meticulous worker, my attendant. The waist ribbon that tightened and fitted the dress was a lighter and lustier red. The embroidery depicted the flower Ruhl, its petals blooming out of its bud, its yellow spreading and stretching against the deep red of the fabric. The bottom laces of the gown touched the ground and I dragged them with me as I sat before the mirror.

On the table beside the polished glass, I found all I needed. Zar was a determined attendant. It was a pity she should have to die for the petty comment about my King. I picked up the white, paper-thin flowers the maids must have picked out from the freshly bloomed trees. I tucked them, one by one, into my braid, the white melted into the honey, and gave an almost lustrous image to my braid. I admired it once in the mirror and then applied the dried juice of the cherries from the farms near the castle on my lips, massaging the thin lines to rid of the dryness. Then, with the fresh oil, I massaged my skin, and the pallor vanished into a slightly tanned complexion, though the fairness remained. Much like Peter. Then I stood and ambled to my bed.

There, I slept.

To my wonderful surprise, I dreamt of my younger days, the day I met, in form, the Vlahar brothers. There was a clear distinction between them. Kaios, younger in body and spirit, was the wittier one and Ikàso the graver. The younger boy was freer in soul, laughed when the situation allowed and hid darker emotions under a thick veil of feigned smiles. The older, though wiser, let his emotions pour out easily, even the darker ones. He'd cry and weep and scream. And in appearance, not much was different between the two: both were golden as the sun's top as it rises above the horizon and fair as the white as the petunias that bloomed in the north every spring. Only Kaios had a crooked nose, an accident, his brother had told me, blushing fiercely. Kaios had denied the stupid excuse. Ikàso had, brutally, punched him in a wrestling match when they were children even younger. It had remained crooked ever since: as mere fishermen displaced from the distant western province, they had neither the means nor the provision to get it mended. I remember the sunny laughter that had erupted joyously from my chest.

We had made quick friends: they were a congenial company, and I, after Colvir's death, wished desperately for friends not grieving and not dreary. An impenetrable circle, the three of us had formed, seldom disturbed as I was the High Princess. When my siblings would long for my company, I would bid them fair goodbye and enjoy and cherish the time I could spend with my brother and sisters. Soon then, I learnt that Timur Vlahar had died at the eastern front. The boys had been orphaned and stripped of any remaining money and their house. I pleaded my father to aid them but he refused to shine pity and shower them with free money. However, he proposed they could work under him, as guards, or as soldiers. Ikàso declined but Kaios raised no objections. He craved a post in the army. And he passed the test easily, making into the army without effort. I, joyous for him but unhappy for his brother, arranged for a trivial job at the shores. It didn't pay even a decent amount but with Kaios in the army, it would be enough.

Then, in late afternoons when the sun stood preying over the toiling men at the coast, and in the early nights when the light moon hung like a chandelier in the low sky, I would visit Ikàso, offering to aid him in his hunting and fishing. I watched him labour and sweat for the low wages. I saw and admired, truly, his spirit and determination. The absolute desire to not let his younger brother be overwhelmed by the burdens. I saw and I loved, far more deeply than I had as the young girl gazing idly out of her window. When I had found that he was not the King of Narnia, the fire had quenched and died slowly. But now, the shallower feeling dissolved into a much lusher and truer feeling. A love I had not known until now. And one day, I declared him mine; the maidens hovering around him like bees around honey retreated as if a lioness had bared her teeth at them. And I claimed him truly and soulfully.

I loved him.

And he loved me.

Until a darker fate revealed itself and we both died, in our own ways.

My father had hung his body from the olive tree I and the brothers had planted near their small house. The oblivious Kaios, the poor Kaios had found him. He had struggled past hordes and crowds of people, shoving men and women out of the way, feeling the dread dig deeper and deeper. And he found him, swaying lifelessly in the wind, at the eye of the birds waiting for the body to be left alone. I don't know if he ever wept. He never talked of it. My father, the King had been merciful to spare him. He was a valuable recruit in the army, and every man was priceless with the growing losses in the east. He pleaded his innocence and unawareness of the affair in the court. And Tromin, graciously, let him live. With years greying and passing one after the other, the whispers and gossips died, the subject dropped, the memory of him faded, and Kaios became a friend to the court members and my siblings, mingling with us during the spring and harvest festivals. He was promoted to the post of lieutenant and became a favourite of the King. Since then, neither of us looked back.

Until Father revealed his seemingly asinine wish to conquer Narnia. It was a simple plan, he'd said. His eldest daughter would marry the High King over all Kings of Narnia. The other sovereigns will have not the means to deny me my power, and when the time was ripe and right, we would kill the four, leaving _me_ the soul ruler. With new laws framed, I would crown my father as the new King and resume my title as the High Princess until his death.

But now, now I wondered—I wondered if I had the heart to, indeed, kill Peter. Even months or years from now, I doubted my strength and endurance. Could I strive through another loss that deep?

I'd expected the morning light to greet me when I woke, but it was a gentle hand shaking my shoulder to rouse me. I woke up, yawning lightly, expecting one of my attendants with news of the wedding preparations. Something gone askew and awry and needed my immediate attention. However, it was Kaios.

"What is it?" I asked, stifling a yawn.

"Peter is dead," he said grimly.

I only blinked at him.

He amended, "Almost dead. I just got the news from the castle guard below. Your guards wouldn't let me in, so I sneaked in through the balcony. I'm sorry I didn't mean to—but they've left him."

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "Please, Selene, they didn't know who he was and they're sorry. They are. You can't…you can't hang them. Please."

"They sent you to beg?" I asked, stroking back his hair.

"You can't…King Tromin can't know that I sneaked into your chambers. If we tell him about Peter, I will…and Marc and Miquel will…Please, Selene," he said, clasping my hands in his. "Please," he repeated.

I didn't give him an answer. Standing up and meticulously straightening my gown, I said, "How long has he been there?"

"Minutes. Mere minutes. No one knows yet. We just need to—"

" _You_ need to do that," I told him, watching the sun rise above slowly, seeing Hisella glow. "It's my wedding day, Kaios. And it won't be ruined." Kaios nodded, albeit reluctantly, and walked to the balcony. "And Kaios." His eyebrows went up. "He's a child," I said. "Be gentle."

And he swung over, into the balcony, conversing in whispers with the mates that had aided him here. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow. Then I sat in front of the mirror again, shining orange as more light slipped in through the narrow gap in the window planks. Delicately, I unwound my braid, slowly pulling out the flowers from the tufts of my hair, letting them rest next to each other. The petals had been mostly ruined, but some were left as smooth and unwrinkled as they were when they had bloomed. When my hair fell loosely over my shoulders, I ran a brush through them. Wiping off the cherry juice from my lips, I waited for my attendants.

The door opened but to reveal Uncle Malar. A guard announced his presence, late in his duty, and I stood up to curtsey. Uncle ordered his guards as well as mine to remain outside, and I saw Zar and Phesine giving me concerned looks as the door shut.

"Uncle," I said, ushering him towards the sofas near the window to sit. "Whatever the matter is?"

He didn't sit. "I just visited your groom."

I was calm. "You did?"

"He's half-dead. Kaios has managed to get him to the guards' rooms below without the knowledge of your father. This is treason, to hide it from the King. He could be hanged." I didn't wince. He sighed. "Selene, the High King is in no condition to—"

"No."

"If Tromin finds out—"

"No."

"And he will when the groom can't stand without collapsing in the next second!" he shouted.

"No!" I shouted back. "I will marry him, _today_."

He stood still for a moment and then brushed a hand over the crown of my head. "Then you have my blessing and prayers, Princess."

When he stormed out, his guards following closely, I fell into an armchair. Zar and Phesine rushed in, bringing some order to the room. With the bed made and other necessities taken care of, they ushered me out of the chair and led me to the bed. Zar went to prepare the bath and Phesine combed my hair.

"Your Majesty," she said, "are you fine?"

"No."


	18. Chapter 18

**Peter**

The whip was crude. Leather and tightly knotted. For the first few lashes, the pain was bearable, the cuts shallow and small and few. But then they burned, the blood oozed out slowly and mixed into the wounds. But I never screamed. A few groans here and there, small squeaks. But no further indication of pain. I had suffered much and this was not nearly the worst of the tortures. Endurance was a strength of mine, my brother had told me one cold morning when the blood in my wounded right arm had frozen, leaving me in sheer agony and paralyzed. A whole week, my arm had swollen and turned blue. There were rumours among the healers that it might have to be cut off, but every time they talked in my chambers, Edmund would shoo them out. It hurt more than I will admit, but I had endured, without screams and tears, but with grim smiles. And even now, without my brother to anchor and stabalise me, I strived through the pain and remained silent through the whole ordeal. One was still holding me against the wall and I felt the tunic and shirt cut under the whip. Twenty? They dealt far more. I vaguely remember the old man calling for help and urging the soldiers to have pity and mercy.

Sometime later, they let go off me, and I dropped, limp, on my chest. Nothing but the pain was apparent. At the touch of the cold ground, my cheek singed and I groaned, struggling to open my eyes. Burning tears fogged my vision, misty outlines of the men slowly moving. I saw one kneel down and closed my eyes. A cold hand tapped my cheek gingerly. I remained still.

"Is he dead, Marc?"

"No, he's breathing."

"Let's go!"

Footsteps echoed emptily through the cell and the clink of the door closing. A single tear leaked out of my eye, mixing with the thin lines of red flowing on the ground. Desperately, I reached to grab the bench. But under extortion, I dropped lax again. It hurt!

"Son?" the old man's voice said and I just barely made out his hand as it poked out of the hole. I wanted to reply but my lips seemed sealed, my throat constricted. "Are you alright? I'll call for help. Just hold on until then. You will, won't you?"

I nodded weakly even though he couldn't see me. When the hand was withdrawn, I let my eyes droop close, drifting into the most wondrous of dreams.

My sisters had organised a ball for the anniversary of one of the oldest dryads living at the bank of the Rush, and I was dancing with the little girl from the Archen court. She was rosy pink and had to stand on my toes to only reach my chest. I twirled her in my arms, swinging her up by her waist in the next moment. She giggled and I put her down. The dance continued and I caught glimpses of each of my siblings laughing and revelling on this seventh night: Susan was dancing with an old lord, a kindly gentleman. Lucy had the Mouse Noricheep in her arms, who had recently sailed back from the east. And Edmund was dancing with two dryads simultaneously, clapping hands with one, and locking arms with the other. As the time passed, the crowd thinned, and poor Edmund was pulled out by the little girl I had been dancing with, I settled on one of the chairs, and looked at my sisters with glee. Susan had forced Lucy to, finally, sit down. My littlest sister giggled as Su wiped the corners of her mouth, frowning at the traces of chocolate. They filled me, I thought, filled me with an utter amount of joy I didn't understand. Eased my pain. Soothed my soul. But I was alone now. No sister would wipe away my tears and comfort the pain. No brother would give me renewed strength with his words. No wiser and older friend and mentor to push me forward, urge me to take small but steady steps.

Alone.

I was alone.

A warmer hand tapped my cheek. "Peter. Peter, wake up."

I burst into sobs at my brother's voice, grabbing his arm, making sure he wouldn't leave. Not this time. I wouldn't let him go this time. I couldn't bear to be alone. No more. Please. "Peter? Open your eyes, come on, you fool."

I cried desperately, feeling, with each breath, the tears stream down my cheeks steadily. But despite the burning sensation in my eyes, I forced them open. I cried and shook even harder to see him. Trembling and quavering, my hands slid slowly along his arm to his cheek. He winced at first and I held firmly and cried harder. I'd been so alone. _So_ alone. And now that my brother was here, I couldn't afford to let go of him again. Not again. Please! My hands were still shaking too much, with shock and pain, like the times I had knelt on a battlefield, amidst the dead and the smell of death and gore, when one of my siblings was pained, when I watched, agonised, blood drain Edmund's body as he struggled, held on to the intangible string of life. With tremors still pulsing through my hands, I cupped his cheek again. _Please don't leave me again_ , I wanted to beg, but no sound came out. He made a face at the touch. I tried to smile; he always hated affection. He brought down my hand and bent down to assess the damage.

I squeezed his hand, and asked, "Si…sis…sisters?"

"Shush," he said hastily, covering my mouth. "You'll stay quiet, do you understand?" His tone was harsh but still loving. I knew he was agitated at my pain. I tried to assure him it wasn't too bad, but he said, "I have to strip the shirt. The fabric has stuck. This will hurt, Peter. Brace yourself."

"No…" I said, licking my dry lips, "no, I…I'm…fi—fine, Ed."

"Sure you are," he said, giving me a small smile. "I'm sorry."

And I screamed.

"Shhh!" he exclaimed, taking off the torn fabric the rest of the way. I was gasping, erratic breaths leaving me in a frenzy. I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood when he ripped another piece of fabric off my back. Squeezing his hand, I tried to calm my breaths but no use. Gasping like a dying man, I held onto more tightly, bracing myself against the next wave of the profound pain. It came and I bellowed and wailed again. Again and again it came until it, abruptly, ended and I could not breathe through my desperate gasps anymore.

"Ed…Ed…" I tried.

"You fool," said an unfamiliar voice.

Edmund relinquished my hand from his and slipped arm under my head, slowly pulling me up. He settled my side against the wall and placed my hand on the bench, telling me to hold it tightly. He turned and I blinked, trying to cut through the haze and bring the spinning to a stop. The ground under me was swaying to its sides, it seemed, and the walls were rapidly growing bigger and then smaller, the shadows dimming and brightening again, the dark spots were darker, and the figures nothing more than scribbles on a black paper. I realised I was going to be sick.

"Lord Malar, this is no place for royalty. You can't be here," said my brother, seeming to shrink under the presence of the older and larger man, towering above my little brother like a black and shadowy phantasm with glowing eyes.

"I already am." The phantom slid past him with a long stride, never losing his balance on the swaying ground. "Is he dying?"

"No, sir."

Losing the control as my vision blackened and the spinning grew fiercer, I bent down clumsily, and vomited the breakfast I had eaten. A hollow feeling sank into the pit of my stomach, and I bent to the other side, collapsing against the cold wall. The spinning had stopped but my vision was still dotted with black spots. And I was gasping.

"Hopefully," my brother amended, kneeling beside me.

"Do what you must, but I shall not be a part of this and risk being hanged," the older man's voice said and I heard, as I gasped more desperately, the thud-thud of retreating steps.

"Peter? Peter!" my brother exclaimed when my eyes rolled back and I collapsed. "Damn it all," was the last thing I heard.

* * *

The fresh warmth of spring was emerging, the perfect lakes, the lushest forests, the widest rivers, and the highest waterfalls. It was a welcoming and tender warmth and I held onto it, to the feeling it gave me, one of hope. Of a brilliant, _brilliant_ hope. And my siblings and my people were there, cherishing the same warmth I was revelling in. We danced and sang till dusk came, and an unnatural darkness blanketed the sky. The warmth faded and the hope fainted readily until it vanished altogether. And one by one, my friends all left my side. My fellow knights, students, attendants, guards, servants, teachers. All I knew. All gone. I hugged my siblings fiercely but they, too, were ripped apart from me. I screamed, arching up on the bed, thrashing, trying to fight off the darkness somehow. Two hands gripped my arms and pinned me down. I struggled more fiercely, begging, _begging_ them all to come back. Any one of them. I didn't want to be alone anymore! Please!

"Peter!" someone screamed, shoving a hard hand over my mouth to silence my wails. "Peter, calm down," the voice instructed gently, "calm down, you're fine now. Just _calm down_!" I gulped. And nodded. "Now. Open your eyes."

I did. The square, golden face that hovered over me was instantly familiar and I pushed him away, beginning to get up. But a different pair of hands forced me down. "Easy. Easy there."

I looked around. We were in a square room with a low ceiling and an arched door and small windows. There were three anxious faces looking down at me. But I didn't find my brother. And he had—he had been there! Licking my lips, I said in a ragged voice, "Where is he?"

"Who?" asked Kaios, sitting in a wooden chair, placed comfortably beside the small floor hearth.

I looked around again, searching desperately for my brother. But I only found the same, unfamiliar faces. "Edmund!" I shouted, shooting up from the bed.

Kaios urged me to calm down again and I sat against the headboard of the bed, hissing at the pain from the lashes. "Where is he!"

"He's not here," he said. "I'm Kaios. This is Volos," he said, gesturing towards the raven-haired boy hovering nervously far from the bed. Then he pointed at the bearded, older man standing near the other end of the bed. "That's Gerulf." Then as gently as the wind's brush, he said, "Your brother, is not here. He never was. And he will never come. He'll die long before he can place a foot on Galman soil. And there have been no sightings of Narnian vessels sailing to Fiemàn, Peter. He has given up. They all have. You're lost."

"No…" I said.

"Yes," Gerulf spoke in a raspy voice. "My brother is a sailor. Been at the docks for a while now though. There's no ship anywhere. The sea is empty. They're not coming. And even if they try now, it will be too late."

I looked at Kaios. He shrugged. "You're getting married _today_ , Peter. Whether you like it or not." He turned to Volos and the little boy's head snapped up. "Get fresh bandages from the infirmary, Vol. And discreetly," he said, even though it seemed the boy knew already.

When he was gone, Kaios waved his hand at Gerulf, and taking it as a dismissal, he left. I blinked at him. "They—they listen to you."

"Well, seeing I'm lieutenant, they'd be damned if they didn't."

I only blinked again. "Where—where are we?"

"The guards' quarters. Like your Southern Wing?" he said thoughtfully. "Only it isn't sprawled with fur and hair and is much tidier." I frowned. "This is Gerulf's room. Mine is in the castle, and we couldn't risk it."

"Risk what?"

He didn't answer. "Lie down. On your chest," he said. When I remained unmoving, he rolled his eyes and said, "Please?"

I huffed but did so in the end, hissing as the movement intensified the burning pain on my back. I touched my forehead when I felt the warm and thick bandage wrapped around my head. They'd been thorough. I felt Kaios roll up my shirt and bit my tongue to hold back more gasps. The hollow feeling in my stomach grew and I ached for food. Kaios had pulled up the shirt to my neck and I squirmed uncomfortably.

"Stay still!" he said.

I stilled. Slowly, he unwrapped the bandages and let them fall into a pile next to the bed. Staring at it, I wondered if I would be able to stand at all. A sharp, cold, burning pain pulsed through my skin and made me screech.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, rolling back on my side. "What are you doing?"

Kaios was holding a bowl filled with some kind of herbal paste. It was whitish and sticky. I made a face. "It's a salve. Now, stop being a child and _stay still_!"

I lied down again, only when he pushed me onto the bed. I hissed and squeaked as he continued to administer the salve. "You could be gentle!" I said.

Kaios rolled his eyes at me. "You're worse than Ikàso."

"What?"

But just then the door opened. I had to writhe on the bed and twist like a snake to see Volos standing in the doorway with a bundle of white bandages. "Leave them and keep watch," Kaios said, and Volos left the bandages on the bed, already retreating. "And get news of Tromin!"

Volos disappeared in the next second. Kaios turned back to me. "I thought I told you to lie down."

"Right," I said with another eye-roll. "Sorry."

I lied down and hissed again when he applied a bit more of the salve over the whip marks. Desperate for a distraction, I said, "Who's Ikàso?", vaguely recalling hearing that peculiar name before.

He withdrew his hand and there was a sharp silence. But he said, "My brother."

I blinked. "You have a brother?"

"I did."

"What?"

"He's dead."

"I—" I hissed when the cuts burned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's been a long time. Seven years," he replied, and I inwardly winced when his bold voice suddenly cracked. "We're not fiends of hell, Peter. We love and care just as much as you." I, in shame, hid my face into the pillows. "You think I liked choking your brother? It hurt, Peter, when you cried for him."

I didn't want to speak, but I couldn't help it. "Then why?" I said, aware of the thickness invading my voice now, too.

"Because I—" he said, "because I—I have to serve my country, Peter."

"By stealing a nation?"

"By giving the Princess the happiness she lost years ago."

I rested my cheek on my hand. "And marrying me would give her happiness?"

"More than you can imagine."

"And what will make Tromin happy?" He didn't reply, but I knew the answer already. "How did he die? Your brother?"

Again, a sharp silence stretched. I waited. With a small, hitched breath, he said, "Stabbed."

I waited for him to say more but he didn't. I pressed on, "Who—"

"It's none of your business, High King. Better worry about yourself and your own brother," Kaios said sharply, standing up. I rolled back, watching him as he picked the bandages. He turned towards me. "You really can't follow directions, can you?"

I sighed and lied back down again. "My stomach is shrinking with hunger," I said wryly.

"You'll be fed," Kaios assured, sitting on the bed again. Administering the last of the salve, he said, "You can get up now."

I did, hissing harshly. When the pain slowly faded and I sat up straight, he said, "I'll get you some late breakfast. You can wear them yourself?", holding out the bandages.

"Yes," I said.

"Then quick. You'll be going back to the dungeons after you've eaten."

* * *

Kaios had locked me in Gerulf's room. And I, with great difficulty, managed to wrap my torso with the bandages. Once done, I felt warm and comfortable and fit again. I got up to search the room, unsteady on my feet. There was nothing notable. A few small desks scattered in the room and its close vicinity—I saw through the window. The bed I had slept on. And a table to dine on. I sat on the bed again, and when the door opened once more and Kaios burst in with an anxious look, I knew I wasn't going to be fed. He told me the King Tromin was passing through the courtyard now and visiting the quarters. They'd have to sneak me out. I tried to protest against it and advised that I simply present myself to the King, but Kaios completely ignored me, and called in Gerulf and Volos, closing the door promptly, blocking view of the guards that had popped out of their rooms to observe. Gerulf seized my arms and I struggled in his grip, insisting that I see Tromin. That was when they knocked me out. I remembered the same grey stones passing me in a haze and the anxious and timid whispers of a third voice I assumed to be Volos's, expressing his thorough concern about the patrolling guards. And then the satisfying _clink_ of the lock. I slept contently on the hard ground.

When I woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and I was dressed a similar, mahogany tunic that hid my bandaged chest from view. I felt bulgy and bloated, my head was bandaged aching, and, as I realised later, bleeding. I got to my feet and groaned loudly.

"Son?"

I smiled, staggering towards the bench and the wall. Taking out the brick, I said, "Sir?"

"You're alive," he said with a relieved sigh. "I thought it was Tromin that took you. I'm sorry. I dared not speak."

"Nothing to be sorry about, sir. They dealt you a good few punches yourself, are you alright?"

"Quite fine. Just a few bruises here and there. They took you to the infirmary?"

"No, they—"

But my reply was sharply cut off by the sound of the lock clicking. The old man immediately went quiet, and I replaced the brick into the wall. The door opened and in came several guards, lining against the wall. I looked at them and then looked at the door to see Tromin appear with his royal cloak gathered in his hand and the crown of the King perched delicately atop his black head. He scrutinised me closely, his gaze lingering on my chest. I think he could make out the bandages from the bulges. But he chose to ignore it and nodded at the guards. They hauled me up and I gritted my teeth to avoid screaming. They brought me face to face with the King.

And the King said, "Today, you will marry my daughter." One of the guards covered my mouth before I could counter. "I expect you to present yourself as regally as you can, High King. Be poised and cooperative. And in the privacy of your rooms, a good husband." I swallowed, disgusted by the prospect. "You have been provided your own attendants. They will help you dress."

I looked over his shoulder to see two frightened young boys huddled together. And I recognised one of them. Volos. The guards pushed me forward and Tromin disappeared in the darkness of the hallways, followed by his personal Guard, and his captain.

The upper castle was a maze and we crossed several hallways and stony corridors, lit only by the dimming shine from the conic lanterns hanging from the brackets fixed into the walls. Descending lower, the castle was getting more naturally lit, the sunlight streaming in through the large, arched windows lining the walls of the corridors. We passed through at least four halls, all almost as big as the Great Hall. And when finally, we reached the second floor, I was unceremoniously shoved into one of the great rooms surrounding the middle audience hall. The door shut before I could assess my surroundings, and I was left with Volos and the other boy.

The room was half the size of my own chambers, and twice the size of Edmund's. The walls were blank of any illustrations, and the thin tapestries were white. The wide bed in the middle was also covered with white sheets. The mirror was a striking black obsidian against the stark white.

As Volos ushered me towards the bathing chamber adjacent to the room, the other boy rushed to close the window. Volos entered the chamber with me and I stared at him.

"Get out."

"But, Your Highness—"

"Your Majesty."

"Your Highness?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's nothing. But I'm perfectly capable of washing. Get out."

"But Your Highness is hurt," Volos said timidly, glancing at my back, still bulgy with the bandages. He looked frightened and I realised why. "Please, Your Highness, at least let me help you with the bandages."

"Fine," I relented with a sigh. "Come then."

And I handed him my tunic which he passed to the other boy who was hovering outside the room as well. The bandages were slow in coming off, as some had stuck to the dried blood. I hissed and mid-way through the ordeal, my stomach growled with hunger. I blushed. Volos blushed. And then with a sigh, I said, "Can you tell the other boy to fetch me some lunch? Or I might just faint of hunger and then drown in the pool."

Slightly chuckling at the wry humour, Volos opened the door an inch, and conveyed the same to the other boy. By the time he came back, I was already finished with the bandages. I bent down to pick the bundle and handed it to Volos, who did not look pleased at the sight of the patches of blood. Making a face (and failing to hide it), he scurried out of the chambers. And I locked the door before he could come back. "Your Highness!"

"I'm fine," I said, undressing. "That salve was pretty effective."

And really, I didn't feel much pain.

"Your Highness," came the defeated voice.

I smiled and descended the steps of the pool. The water of the bath was warm and my muscles relaxed all at once and I went limp. It was the first time in days that I had bathed, and I made the most of it, staying in there for a full hour. No one disturbed me.

Then, dressed in the robe Volos had left in the chambers earlier, I stepped out, drying my hair with a towel. Volos snatched it from me, shooting me disapproving glances. "His Highness will lose all his hair before he turns thirty if he keeps drying his hair like that. He must gently dab it with the towel and then fan it."

I shrugged and asked about my lunch. Volos gestured towards the bed. With my mouth agape in surprise and anticipation, I sat down to eat. The toast was honeyed but this time it had had been sprinkled with sugar, both white and brown. The boiled eggs had been cut into the shapes of roses. And the milk was a rich white. The silverware did not disappoint either and was bejewelled with small rubies, carefully placed into the small cracks and pits in the metal. Giving the tray and impressed look, I began eating.

When I finished, the other boy (Tamur, as I learned later) came back with the clothes I would be wearing for my _wedding_. Shaking the feeling, I let them dress me. It was a fitful and unpleasant process. They first helped me into very thin and few bandages, practically invisible under the rest of the clothing. Then the shirt and breeches which were followed and socks and boots longer than I would have liked. Then Tamur pulled out the tunic. Aghast and frozen by its sheer glow and allure, I stared. It was a serene blue, matching the breeches which possessed a darker shade of the colour of the sea. The tunic was embellished and decorated with gold threads sewn into its rich fabric. The embroideries sewn at its hem and the cuffs of it sleeves showed trees and branches stretching into the sky and never ending, nests of Robins, and the beauty of the Ruhls and the paper flowers. The buttons near the collar were silver and carved into the crunching leaves of autumn. They helped me into it.

And when I kept staring at my reflection in the mirror, Volos laughed and said, "But we haven't even brought out the surcoat and cloak yet."


	19. Chapter 19

**Selene**

The bath was warm and the water bubbled and splashed as I slowly entered the bath. Phesine had quickly heated the water as she had discerned my anxiousness and absolute impatience to, finally, get married. I washed thoroughly, careful that my hair remained dry and far from the water pooling outside the bath. Zar massaged my sour muscles, and I relaxed in the bath as I long as I was allowed it. When I was satisfied, Zar ushered me out of the bath and aided me with the robe. And I followed her to my chambers.

Once inside, Phesine pulled out the dress I had had the servants tailor weeks ago. It was blue, to match Peter's royal tunic and surcoat. The embroideries were less evident than most of my dresses as I wanted the attention to be on my beauty and not the allure of my dress. The cuffs of the long sleeves were loose and would hang down from my wrists. The ribbons wound gracefully around the waist and collar were linen and bought from the richest farms in Galma.

"Quick, Phesine," I said.

And Zar helped me out of the robe as Phesine brought me the corset. Once I had worn it, now almost unbreathing and completely constricted, Phesine helped me with the dress, and made sure it fit perfectly. And it did. I was watching my reflection blush in the mirror when Zar said, "Her Majesty looks beautiful."

"Seems so," I said, flushing again. "Phesine, call my guards in, will you?"

When they came, I said, "Bring news of the High King. And tell my father I am ready."

* * *

When I saw Peter, my heart jumped and jerked.

I couldn't breathe at his sight. So perfect yet humble.

His tunic was visible even beneath the surcoat, which seemed to be the epitome of royal clothing. He was blue just as the ocean of his eyes. And I would have swooned, had Felana not brought some sense back with a light nudge. I licked my lips and walked forward in the corridor, followed by my guards and attendants. When I reached him, he looked away. I smiled and adjusted his coat, ignoring his small protests.

Then, unknowingly, my hand slipped onto his chest, just above his heart. And the world faded away. His heart sounded just like my love's. He looked at my hand and then at me.

I sobbed and kissed him, holding down his hands with mine. He stiffened and struggled desperately but I slowly, without ever leaving his lips, led him against the wall. My hands invaded his shirt as I continued to kiss him. I frowned when I felt the bandages.

He turned away. "Sto—"

But I was already kissing him again. The pleasure and satisfaction were almost too much.

But then he forced my hands out of his shirt and threw me away. I collided with the opposite wall and groaned. Peter was upon me, his grip on my wrists bruising. I stopped my guards with a glance.

"I _said, STOP_!" he thundered and his voice possessed an angry ferocity. It scared me. He shook me. "I don't want you! Why can't you just understand that?" He shook his head and let me go. "I will _never_ love you. _Never._ "

I stopped breathing and tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Oh, you can cry, too!" he jeered.

I blinked at him through my tears. My sobs shook me. Fey gingerly touched my arm, giving Peter poisonous looks. "You don't know what you're doing. _Stop._ "

My guards were still. And I knew they wouldn't move unless I told them to. So, Peter continued, "Do you know _why_ I don't love you, Selene?" Fey wiped my cheeks and I shook my head.

Peter laughed. " _Because_ you're not human. You steal me from my home, leave my brother to _burn_ , try to cut a poor girl's fingers off, torture a guard for a simple mistake, and you expect me to see you as anything more than a monster?"

I fell to my knees, trembling.

Peter knelt before me. "And you don't feel _any_ remorse, do you?"

"Peter," said my sister's voice. " _Stop._ "

"You're filled with lust and violence and cruelty. Nothing more. No love. No mercy. No _conscience._ Nothing but the dark and no light. And _you_ , you will never deserve _anyone_. Not anyone you say you love." He bent down to look into my eyes. "I don't know how you're going to make me marry you. But you _can't_ make me love you. Not with torture. Not with blackmail. Not with threats. So, even if you're High Queen, you'll never be my wife."

The words stung like a snake had dug its teeth into me. But I laughed through my tears, feeling Felana's grip on my arm tighten. I looked up, smiling and giving him an obscene grin. "You think you know me. Do you even know my last name, Peter Michael Pevensie?"

He winced.

I stood up and gazed down at him. The next words cut me just as they must have cut him:

"I have Glevellunium, Peter."

He stared at me, unblinking. Face blank. His skin was paling.

"Now you decide." He looked down but I dug my fingers into his cheeks and forced him to look at me. "But it won't matter now, will it? You've summoned the demon again. And this time, it won't leave. Because I don't love you. For I see now," I said as he cried. "That _you_ are _nothing_ like Ikàso."

Felana gripped my arm but I shook her off and she sobbed. I nodded at my guards and they kicked the king to the ground and I knelt beside him. I kissed his lips gently. "But a young boy like you," I said, kissing him again, "can do wonders for a woman like me. And tonight, you will see how."

He stared at me, with the same noble eyes, only this time, they were apprehensive, and _terrified._ "You _can't_."

"I will. Tonight." I stood up, placing a foot on his chest. "Thank you for telling me who you really are. Now, I can kill you after we kill your siblings. You've spelled your doom, Peter. And you will bear it." Tears were rapidly leaking out of eyes, trailing down his temples. "You've ruined me forever. I will do the same for you."

I looked at the king's attendants. "He will wear a different colour. Black. Get him ready in an hour."

I looked down at Peter again. "I will make you watch as I torture your brother," I told him in a menacing voice. "I will throw your sisters off the Great Middle Mountain. I will let my father enslave _every single one_ of your Narnian beasts. And you, _you_ , I will tie to a tree, cut open your stomach, and let the vultures eat you alive."

He had closed his eyes and I didn't know if he was listening. But I knew he could _hear_. "Not even the Lion can save you now."

I laughed. "So, you better pray."

* * *

The ink is scarce and the rail of my thoughts has finally found an end, however abrupt. I wrote this for you, love, for I want you to know how the fiend was summoned once more and would remain without a finality of its stay this time. You know, you _know_ love is the only thing that could pull me back from this hellish reality, the crude and raw poison of the evil and deeds sinful running through the corrupted veins of me. But I loved whom, that was not your light or shadow, that did not share your love or kindness, that did not _understand_. And I, oblivious to his heart's wicked, loved him anyway, gave him my lush passion, but earned only dry and perfervid hatred. He sundered my shallow pieces with a small vehement refusal and words cruel enough to cut through iron. I tried to toil with him, make him see me as the girl I am when the curse remains caged beyond the barriers of love. I loved him and futilely tried to make him love me. He refused me, rejected my ardent love, and for the final time, convinced me of his hatred. And I told him I had stopped loving him. A lie, you say? Perhaps. Because, yes, I see you still, in him. Perhaps not in his heart I see your love, but the golden fire and the entire blue sky entrapped in his eyes robustly remind me of you. And yes, _yes_ , it is the sole reason I still cannot find, in my heart, the will to feed him to the death.

I will marry him in mere hours. I will be _his_ wife and not yours. But, love, not for eternity. Our love is not true enough to last for eons and eons. When I am High Queen and the small land of Narnia is, at last, ours, he will die, and I, once more, will be yours. Now, my father is calling me, and I must go. I promise I will make you proud.

I shall pray and plead the heavens that these few pages find you wherever you have gone.

Selene


	20. Chapter 20

**Peter**

_Glevellunium._

I'd heard, not ever seen. It was Talus that had introduced me to the very peculiar condition. In his records, he had described it as a 'natural curse' which only the rarest people inherited. Glevellunium begins as only rapid changes in moods, from lovely to violent as a threatened tigress in a few minutes. Then, as the curse slowly invades the nerves, as Talus had said, the mind is overwhelmed with emotions you've never felt. The curse bewitches the cursed, pulsing through the veins slowly. It evokes excessive rage. And the ravening and growing desire to inflict violence. It's the curse that feeds on blood that is shed. And the cursed, is forced to feed on it too. My breaths muffled and hitched. It wasn't her.

_It wasn't her. It **wasn't** —_

My frame chilled and my breathing quickened. A young face appeared above me. "Your Highness!"

My body shook and racked with sobs and tears. I wanted desperately to convince myself I'd been right and she wrong. That she was the monster and I noble and truthful. That she craved only blood and lust and was _incapable_ of love. That _she_ was the one with the lies and the cruel words. That she had no soul. I wished desperately to feel no sympathy for her and no pure disgust for myself.

But I couldn't escape from the shame and guilt.

And the fear.

I curled in on myself, hugging myself as I cried bitterly on the ground. Hands nudged me but I didn't move, covering my ears, hiding my face into my knees. I wished to escape the truth and live in the lie I had so happily weaved for myself. But now—

I didn't know what to do. I didn't understand!

"Your Highness, please!"

I couldn't breathe anymore. I couldn't feel my heart. I was stone. I struggled to my feet and pushed the voices away. And I ran. I shoved past people and servants and none dared to stop me. I opened doors and ran through them. I stumbled up the stairs and didn't hiss when I fell and toppled down. I ran until my lungs were fire and I couldn't breathe at all. My face blued and I fell, clutching to my chest. Then I crawled. Where I was, I didn't know. I crawled out of a door and the sky was above me. Still trying to breathe, I grasped a chair's legs and stood up, swaying dangerously.

My lungs still burned for air and I could feel my life slowly drain and my body shut down. I needed to _breathe._ But I couldn't. _Couldn't breathe! Breathe! Breathe! **Breathe…**_

Wind rushed into my lungs and I sucked it in, feeling the panic subside but the fear sink even further into my soul. The fear. The guilt. The _shame_. I couldn't do this. I staggered forward and fell onto the golden railing at the edge of the large balcony. I looked down and found myself at the stone courtyard the balcony overlooked. I jumped over to the ledge and tried to breathe, wondering if I could—

I could. I could go. I could hear him calling me.

I let one foot hang in the air. A crowd formed beneath me. Gasps echoed.

And I took another step.

For a frenzied moment, the only apparent things were the gasps and shrieks and screams. And gravity's pull. But I remained where I was. I couldn't fathom it. Without thinking, I looked down. All eyes were fixed on me, faces upturned. I felt solid ground under my feet but couldn't see it. He _had_ called me. I tried to go further but I was a second too late. A hand grabbed my arm and I was pulled back, flying through the air. I fell over the ledge and was pulled over the railing. Once on the safe ground, a fist collided with my face.

"You sodding imbecile!"

For a second, I let myself believe that it was my brother's voice, berating me for my foolish show of actions. But the second passed and Kaios shook me until my teeth rattled. "What is wrong with you? Did you think for even a second? A fraction of a second? There is _no escape_! What were you thinking? You could have died! You—"

I hugged him. I didn't think, didn't care. He was startled at first but then awkwardly rubbed my back. "How—how did your brother die?"

"Peter—"

"How did he die?"

"Tromin put a sword in him and hung his body from a tree," Kaios replied shortly, voice devoid of any thickness, astoundingly calm.

"Because he loved Selene."

"Yes."

I burst into fresh tears and sobs. I wiped my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry." I pulled back, trying to futilely supress more tears. "Kaios, then you know, you know what my brother means to me?" He nodded. "What my sisters mean to me?" He nodded again. "Then _help_ me. Let me return to them. Please."

Kaios looked down. "Peter." He took a deep breath. "Your siblings," he said, looking up once more, I blinked at him, "are in your castle of Cair Paravel," –he licked his lips, breathing in again— "and they are decorating your home for some prince's birth anniversary."

I shook my head. "That's—"

"—ridiculous? But it's really not. They've given up and they've moved on."

"No, that's—"

"—a lie? Peter, you heard Gerulf. The sea is _empty._ If they were coming, if your brother was coming, he would have come by now."

My eyes were wet, lips and limbs trembling. "Please. You can't. You can't lie to me. You can't convince me tha—"

"I'm not trying to convince you. I've told you what I know. Now you decide."

_Now you decide. You decide. You have to decide. Choose. **Choose!**_

I chose.

I tried to breathe and said, "There are guards in there?"

"Aviso and Osgar particularly are growing impatient. They'll drag you back in about twenty seconds."

"How much time—how much time till the wedding?"

"An hour."

I smiled. "Then I better get ready."


	21. Chapter 21

**Peter**

"Volos, I'm sorry," I said as he slowly unwrinkled the black and blank tunic I was to wear.

"For what, Your Highness?" he asked, turning around.

"For this."

With a simple punch, the boy dropped to the ground. I knelt beside him to ensure he was only unconscious. Satisfied, I wore the tunic, wrinkled as it was, and walked to the balcony.

Selene might be cursed. She might be a victim. But she still was a monster, I told myself. A monster I didn't love. And she didn't love me. She _had_ loved, the guilty part of my heart reminded me. She had loved and lived a life some day. A life free of blood and the continuous need to shed it. Kaios had told me of his brother. Ikàso was golden like his brother, blue-eyed, and tall. Much like me, he'd compared. She had loved the shadow of him that she saw in me. And now, that it had faded in her eyes, I was a mere toy she would marry, rape, torture, and kill. So, her father could have _my_ kingdom, enslave my people, and kill my siblings. However unpleased I was with myself at the moment, I certainly did not wish that fate upon my loved ones. Selene was right. I had spelled my doom. But I wasn't going to bear it. Not even now.

Kaios had led me to the rooms (and Osgar and Aviso had not missed a single chance to harass me). We had talked much. About my disappointment in my siblings and kingdom, my broken trust and heart, my disbelief that it should be true. He had tried to console me. But I had broken down, unwilling to believe that my brother, _my brother_ would so easily let me go. He had understood and bid me goodbye when we reached my chambers.

It was easy to manipulate Kaios. And I didn't doubt the captain, Osgar, and Aviso had been listening closely. They thought I had lost the battle and had accepted the false reality and their petty lies. I could trust Kaios, as lieutenant, to reduce the castle guard outside the gates, since he trusted me enough now. The northern courtyard was the busiest one, bustling with people preparing for the wedding. And it was hard to access, hidden behind the small orchard that separated the main castle from the northern grounds. The eastern and western courtyards served as the main entrances into the castle and would be heavily guarded, I had learned from Kaios. I doubted he could help me there. That left the southern courtyard. It was the one my balcony overlooked. And at its edges, were the guards' quarters, as I saw. It would not be easy to sneak away.

I sighed and began my descent.

I didn't share the skill set my brother and Sybil possessed in climbing but I was experienced enough to climb down a slanted castle wall. The cracks were quite obvious and the cavities deep enough. The brick dust in them aided my grip and I confidently continued down. As I had enough faith and trust in Aslan. He had saved me once before already. It was evident. He had wanted me to take a step further. It was a strong pull in my chest, like a rope looped around my heart, pulling me into the air, urging me take just one step. I took a moment too long to understand, and Kaios had yanked me back. I could have escaped. But it was a wasted opportunity.

Occupied with these thoughts, I hardly noticed as the minutes passed and my feet suddenly touched the stony ground. I gulped and turned. Fortunately, the courtyard was mostly empty, most of the guards were guarding the northern courtyard and the great hall where the wedding was to be held. The only ones on duty here were circling the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard or patrolling near the walls of the infirmary opposite to the guards' quarters.

Light on my feet as Ed had taught me, I steadily made my way to the guards' rooms. Most doors were closed and I sighed in relief when the I found the corridor taking a sharp turn was empty. Sticking to the shadows, I inched towards the wall at the end, ducking under the windows and casually passing the open doors in hope to elude the guards. But all the rooms were empty and I, making use of it, slipped into them when my subtle movements, I thought, had caught the eye of one of the patrolling guards (they were remarkably far and I and they were separated by long pillars holding up the roof of the quarters). Then, when their eyes were turned away again, I'd approach further, tracing the walls cracks with my fingers. It was an easy and convenient process. And soon, I reached the end and the wall that stood tall there.

Now what? I thought.

The rooms were on my left and on my right, the large pillars stood, blocking me from the guards' view effectively. I looked around and saw a stool in the room next to me. I quickly swung it out of the door and placed it next to the wall. Standing on it, I looked for a way to climb over the wall. I knew it separated the quarters from a different section of the courtyard, where the southern gates were. But there was no way to the top and I sighed, conceding to the wall. I replaced the stool back in the room and swallowed against a lump. The guards were growing more alert as the sun so very slowly sank down in the west.

Deliberate, I pressed myself against the wall and subtly moved to its edge, poking my head ahead and turning to see a large and pronounced number of guards stationed in front of a small building on the right. They were as still as a stone statue, and their thick lines had blocked the view of the building, but I could make out the dome ceiling. Turning my eyes to my left, I barely refrained myself from bursting into crude laughs of relief and small amusement.

Horses. Unguarded.

However, the stable gate was being watched by the guards, who turned their gazes in its direction occasionally, making sure the horses remained calm. So, I sought a different way. And found it, without much effort. There was a back door. Double doors, actually, flinging back and forth, indicating that someone had just passed through. I smiled and waited. Then, when there was enough commotion behind me, I slowly and very discreetly, crawled on two feet along the wall. Behind me, everything was hysteric. There was a bouquet missing from one of the tables and a stray dog had been spotted in the castle vicinity. The immobile guards right opposite to the stable had also exchanged some very uncertain and anxious glances before one nodded decisively and they all began trotting towards the large fountain, wanting to help in finding the dog before Tromin ordered for it to be butchered. It left a clear path for me, unexpectedly. And I made a run for it.

When I reached the stable, I realised it was worthy of a much better and stately name. The front gate was large enough to fit a small giant and the wooden walls were lined with arched windows which had allowed me a peek of the horses. There was a storage room in one corner and I could smell the awful smell of hay. The horses were separated by low wooden frames and were allowed to poke their necks and greet their neighbours. None of them paid me any attention until I let out a low whistle. Then they whinnied, escalated by the prospect of being ridden out again.

I chose the chestnut. Rubbing her neck, I rested my forehead against hers, giving her my trust and gaining hers as I had done with many dumb horses before. She whinnied and nuzzled my neck. I chuckled softly and said, "I'll call you Night."

Deciding I had wasted enough time, I searched the place for a saddle. Four of them hung from the walls of the storage room. I hastily grabbed one and strapped it around Night's back. Ensuring she was comfortable enough, I grasped her reigns and led her out of the backdoor. Another wall greeted me. It was too tall and thick to not be the castle wall. To my left, there was a door, and I had no doubt that was where the previous man in the stables had gone. Turning to my right, I was pleased to see an empty alleyway turning sharply from the stable end.

The alley was dark and shadowed from the receding rays of the sun by a shed built above it. The wall on my left was doubtlessly the castle wall. And on the stable wall, there hung swords and scimitars. I blinked. This must be the temporary armoury for the courtyard security. Without wasting another moment, I armed myself with the lightest sword I could find, whispering words of thanks to Aslan, and rubbing Night's neck to keep her quiet. The alleyway ended in an arched doorway, topped by the curved surface of the shed.

Instantly to my left, were the main gates of the castle. And they were guarded. Heavily.

But Aslan was with me and loud hollering voices echoed in the castle hallways, repeating, "The High King has escaped!", attracting the guards back towards the southern castle.

They left two guards at the gates. I smiled.

Telling Night to stay in the alleyway, I sauntered out, revealing myself in the dim light of the evening. The guards, at first, were uncertain, seeing only a silhouette. But one murmured something to his friend in Galman and they were charging towards me in a rage. I brandished my sword and it took four moves in total to knock both of them down. They dropped prone on the stone grounds of the courtyard and I ushered Night out.

The gates were already open to admit guests that chose the odder way into the castle.

Heart beating at fast pace and mind already flooding with thoughts of seeing my family again, I mounted Night.

And we raced into the twilight.

* * *

_It wasn't supposed to be this way…_

"And do thou, before the great heavens and the great goddess Phaira…" Aviso said in Galman and then repeated in Narnian.

_These are not my gods. This is not my will…_

"…take Selene…"

_No, no, no, no…_

"…Her Royal Highness, Daughter of the King Tromin, High Princess, and Heiress to the Throne of Galma…"

_Oh, Aslan…_

"…as thy wife?"

_Wife. Wife! I had promised. I'd promised my brother…_

"Peter, High King?"

_I can't!_

"Peter, speak!"

_Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ed!_

"Peter!"

_Aslan, I'm sorry!_

"Peter!"

"I have something to say," I blurted out. Selene prompted me to go on, still holding my hands in hers. I swallowed back my tears and said, "I'm afraid of lizards."

The hall echoed with laughter. "What?" Selene said.

"I fear lizards," I repeated. "That's all."

Still puzzled and with her brows furrowed, she looked at Aviso, he was holding the ancient book of the royal family. "Then do thou take her as thy wife, High King Peter?" he asked me.

Finally, I burst into tears. Trembling and barely able to make out coherent words, I murmured the single word that shattered my entire reality and soul:

"Yes."

And she kissed me as Aviso pronounced us married.


	22. Chapter 22

**Peter**

I didn't know how it happened. I was free, racing into the twilight, and _elated_ at the thought of beating Ed in rescuing me.

The southern fields had been freshly harvested, and I rode Night through the plain lands, towards the gloaming sky, the dimming horizon. It wasn't until we reached a village that I realised I'd been going the wrong way. The people had been gracious enough to tell me to take western road cutting through the village if I wanted to reach the docks by midnight. The sky was serene now, black and grey, and I kept riding until, _until_ I spotted the soldiers blocking entrance of a cave that cut through one of the rolling hills just a little way off the Great Middle Mountain. They seemed to be waiting. Waiting for me. They knew I would come through here. But the Lion was still with me, for in the dark, their eyes failed them, and I remained unseen.

I dismounted Night with the quietness of the moonlight spilling onto the green earth, and ushered her back, slowly and steadily, careful to keep her calm. That was when I heard the voice. Osgar's. Irate and absolute frustrated. Yet threatening.

"We know you're here!"

I froze in my place, not daring to risk their glances by moving even in the slightest. Osgar continued, "You are a noble man, are you not? Kind at heart? Then, would you, in your selfishness and desire, let this poor servant die?"

I didn't know who he was talking about. I forced the thought upon myself, _I have no obligation to these people_. Yet my feet were frozen, unwilling to move and risk the servant's life, even if I didn't know who I was willing to die for. Then, a loud and doubtlessly feminine whimper rapidly pulsed through the air, still ringing in my ears many seconds after it was let out. I swallowed. I could not leave. No matter what I told myself. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that I would not doing wrong if I just _left_ , I could not move my still frozen feet. My heart wouldn't listen to me. Urgently, I took a step. I had to _leave_. Aslan had brought me this far, and to remain here would be refusing him and his aid. _His_ blessing and _his_ aid. I had to _go_. I had to. I took another step and Night silently stomped forward with me. It was getting easier as the silence stretched and I could pretend it had all been a mere imagined scene. There was no girl whimpering and begging in her to heart that I step out and save her from doom. There were no soldiers waiting for me. There was no Selene and no wedding. I was a free man, a king, a king that needed, desperately, his home and his people. I took another step. And froze, letting out a shaky breath. I could just _leave_. Leave now and never return. Yet Osgar's words chilled every fibre of my being, firmly pinning me in my place.

"Razia, she says her name is. My princess says she's one of your swooning birds."

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe. I could leave! I could just _leave_. A tear plopped onto the ground and Night nuzzled my side, sensing my utter despair and disappointment and despondency. I was so close. So close to seeing my sisters relieved faces and hearing their joyous laughs. So close to seeing Ed's fierce scowl when I would tell him he'd been bested and then feeling his arms around me again, his warmth. Without my sisters I was unbalanced and defeated and profoundly dejected. And without my _brother_ , a certain and very important part of me had been hollowed out, as if I'd been turned to stone, unable to breathe in and feel _life_. I was so close to them. So close, curse it! _So_ close.

And yet, _so_ far.

Razia whimpered again, but this time it was a painful shriek rather than a frightened one. Osgar was growing impatient. She had been hurt. Hurt before and hurt now. Because of me. I opened my eyes and rested my forehead against Night's.

"Go. Run and never look back, alright?" I said, knowing if she were to return with me, Tromin wouldn't be merciful enough to let her live. Here, in Galma, I had learned the dumb beasts were heavily relied upon. And if they betrayed their owners, they weren't spared. "Run," I repeated and let her go. Night nuzzled my neck and I rubbed hers. Then I patted her back and urged her to go.

She set off eastward, breaking into a run when she reached the edge of the line of trees.

"You don't have much time, Peter, High King! Our soldiers will find you nonetheless, only you'd be saving a life if you reveal yourself now!"

I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer to Aslan for strength. Then taking in deep breaths, I slowly moved past the trees. Soon, I emerged out of the crowd of trees, and was instantly thrown harshly to the ground by the soldiers that were just about to search the thicket. I tasted dirt and suppressed tears and the fierce urge to make use of my sword. But I hadn't been given a chance anyway. The soldiers quickly stripped it off and forced me onto my feet. I found myself facing Osgar who held Razia in his grasp, she was crying hoarsely.

"Oh, no, no, no, my Lord. Why?"

I smiled at her and she shook her head, crying even harder. I looked up at Osgar. "Now what?"

"Now," he said with a laugh, "we marry you, High King of Narnia."

* * *

Seeing the hall, even Susan would blush, for the Galmans had surpassed _even_ my sister. In the middle of the northern courtyard, was this magnificent structure of pure marble. And as Osgar and his soldiers pushed me in harshly, I let my eyes devour every beautiful scene.

I don't know where to even start.

The ceiling was dome-shaped, glass, and embellished with panes of gold, curved to fit. The vivid colours painted illustrations on the glass, of Galma's most sacred history, and most beautiful scenes. In the middle, on a circle, was the Great Middle Mountain. The walls were yellow and brightly illuminated by the lantern's shine and they depicted carved drawings of flowers of Ruhls and Hyacinths from the Southern fishing port, Hiekā. Dark and large silken curtains were glossing and shining brightly against the light-coloured walls. There were tables, round and large enough for a traditional Narnian feast, and the guests were already seated, their eyes turned towards me. However, they all seemed partially distracted by the sweet Galman melody playing in the eastern corner of the hall. There was a dais, raised about three feet above the ground, three golden-haired girls (likely sisters) were playing a ciaramella, a flute, and a small carinet, though their designs were much very different from the Narnian instruments. Other than that dais, there was one more raised platform.

And on it, stood Selene.

For the first time, I let myself acknowledge her sheer beauty, undistracted by the demon I could no longer see in her (no matter how much I forced myself to). She was simply wondrous in the blue dress. Perhaps even perfect. Her dark, yellow ramparts had curled behind her ears, then fell freely over her shoulders, as if they'd been placed delicately in their reserved perch. Her eyes that were turned away from me shone sea-blue and glinted at me, and for a fraction of a second, I could see the entire Eastern Sea in the blue orbs. Her lips were scarlet red, contrasting perfectly and starkly against the pale complexion of her bare skin, and I could almost see the zephyr of her breath blowing past her lips. Her hands, even whiter than her face, were in her father's, and the slender fingers seemed to be calling me. My eyes ran up her arm, tracing the skin visible from the small slits in the sleeve, and took me to her neck. I stopped breathing, wishing just a brush of my lips against—

Someone shoved me forward, breaking me out of the dreamy trance. I blinked, and realising what I'd been thinking, I staggered back. And stumbled over the rope that held the curtains in place. I fell back. But strong arms helped me stand straight again.

I looked behind me. "Kaios."

"Stop swooning," he said dryly.

I blinked.

"Why should he? She'll become his wife tonight," said a raspy voice and I looked to my left to find its owner, Gerulf. He slapped my shoulder and I stumbled forwards in the force with a surprised "O!". Gerulf and Kaios both laughed. I looked around.

"Where's Osgar?" I asked, bewildered that he would leave me alone.

"He's the captain of the king's Guard. So, hovering around Tromin, I can say," Kaios said.

"Then who's guarding me?"

They both laughed again. "We are."

I blinked. I still had a chance. By the looks of things, the wedding was not going to be held for another hour. And the guests had returned to their gossips. I ushered Kaios and Gerulf to a corner, wary of the few eyes that followed us. I handed them a plate each and fetched myself one. Then led them towards the buffet, and they followed me, shooting me amused and suspicious glances. I filled all three plates with food and ate some of the plain rice I had helped myself with. Kaios and Gerulf had also begun eating (their choices of a meal were much classier). Satisfied that no one was watching us, I said, "You have to help me."

They stopped eating. "What?" Gerulf spoke, running his tongue over his teeth. I made a face.

But then said, "You helped me once. You can help me now."

Kaios said, "We didn't _help you_. We helped our friends, the ones that whipped you. And we didn't _help_ you to escape, _which_ you, being the fool you are, did anyway. Did you really think you could just sail home?"

"No," I responded to his chiding, "but I got close."

"No, you did not. Osgar knew where you were headed before you even stepped out of the castle grounds. You were riding south. That took you to the sacred and small village of Phe. They would, of course, point you towards the west. And you, going westward straight from there, would come across the Hills of Roe." I gave him a glare. He only laughed along with Gerulf and slapped my shoulder sympathetically. "We were always ten steps ahead of you, Peter. We always will be."

"I thought you were my friend," I said.

"I am. And trust me, this is the best you can do now. Your family has given you up to us. You should accept it," Kaios said.

"And quickly," Gerulf put in. "You'll ruin your wedding night otherwise."

"Shut up," I said, mentally smacking myself for swooning after Selene. She was a victim, yes. But she was still evil. I breathed a relieved sigh when I didn't need to convince myself of that. I looked at her once and saw the demon again. I closed my eyes and prayed to Aslan. Then I said, "There _will_ be no wedding night. Because there will be no wedding. I'm not marrying her. And you can't force the word out of my mouth."

"Can't we?" asked Kaios, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're such an ass," I said.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "And you were _very_ noble knocking out poor, little Volos!"

I shut my eyes. "Is he still sore?"

"No. He and his brother had a talk," Gerulf said, beginning to eat his food again. "They ought to be enjoying some wine in the near vicinity."

"He has a brother?"

"Tamur."

"Right. Silly me," I said sourly.

Then Kaios eyed me suspiciously. "What happened to your royal tunic and the surcoat that shines brighter than the sun?"

I blinked. "You don't know?"

"My father is going to kill you two," said a new voice suddenly and a hand pointed first at Kaios and then at Gerulf. "You have got to be the worst guards in history, _eating_ with the prisoner you've been assigned." The voice was coming from my right and I turned. He was a handsome man, with features similar to my brother, but his hard face was a clear sign he would not be a congenial company. Kaios and Gerulf were clearly thinking the same as I could see them gritting their teeth slightly. Gerulf ate the last bit of pastry he had left on his plate and put it away. Then snatched Kaios's plate and put it away too (he made a face).

"There, now we're guarding him," Gerulf spoke in a sullen voice and grabbed my arm with brutal force.

"Hey!" I said.

The man snorted. "Really? He's supposed to be at the dais."

"Srif," Kaios cut in, "isn't a deck of cards waiting for you in a shady corner somewhere?"

"Not on my sister's wedding day."

"She is not your sister," Kaios said, his knuckles turning white as he curled his hands into fists.

"And also not your sweetheart. How very unfortunate," Srif said. I glanced at Kaios. He looked ready to commit murder right then and there. "Oh, you love her, don't you? You have ever since you met her. But she chose your brother instead. And then," he said, laughing, "this _High_ King, from a country that has _four_ rulers (why is that anyway?)." He turned to Kaios again. "If only you had the courage to tell her."

Kaios didn't speak. And I _couldn't_ speak. But Gerulf stepped forward. "You should leave, _Sire_."

Srif shrugged. "I do have to talk to my sister. She's nervous, you know. And you two," he said, "should take him to Osgar." He clapped my shoulder. "You're too lucky." Then he was gone, ambling away with barely stifled laughs.

I gulped, turning to Kaios. "You—"

"Shut up," he said briskly once.

"But, Kaios—"

"Shut. Up." And with a surprising contemptuous look, he stormed off.

Gerulf, who was still holding my arm, shoved me through the crowd, towards the dais, where King Tromin and Selene were still talking. He took me behind the dais, where Osgar was waiting for me with Malar and his soldiers. Razia was with them too, still crying. I gave her a consoling smile. Osgar looked up. "Gerulf, you're late."

"I'm sorry, Captain," apologised Gerulf sincerely. The captain waved a hand and dismissed Gerulf. When he was gone, Osgar looked at me.

"You will marry her," he said, looking at Selene, who had now left her father's company and was talking with her sister, one other maiden, and an older woman. I looked back at Osgar.

"No."

Malar stepped towards me, and adjusted my black tunic, pulling it down by its hem. "You will. Or she," he said, pointing a finger at Razia, "dies."

I closed my eyes and then promptly opened them again. "No," I repeated, "if you kill her, you'll lose your only leverage."

"No," said Malar and Osgar grinned, "we won't. If you refuse, we'll kill her. And if you still refuse, we'll butcher all the slaves in the castle. And most of them are Archen."

"You won't do that."

"Won't we?" Osgar said and Razia's muffled screams echoed in my ears.

I looked at her and my eyes widened in shock. "What are you doing!" I screamed and hands caught me from behind before I could run to her. " _Stop_!" I screamed again when the man with the knife kept slicing at her arms. "Stop it! _Please_!"

"If he does, you'll marry my niece?" Malar asked.

"Please…" I sobbed when she screamed again. "Please, she's just a…"

"…girl?"

"Please," I said desperately, looking down. "I beg you. Please. You can't. You can't force me to…to…"

"Bring him to the dais," said Tromin's voice suddenly from somewhere to my right. "The guests have waited too long."

Then, I was being forced up the stairs as I cried, knowing I had no way out of this. _Aslan, please. Oh, my Lord, my King, please. Ed, where are you?_

"Straight, boy," said Aviso's voice and I opened my eyes. He was holding a large book in his hands. It was bounded with threads and pressed between two thick sheets of leather. I stared at it. It was the royal family's ancient book. I had seen it. Five years ago.

"Peter," Selene's voice said. And I realised I was trembling. She took my hands. And I looked up at her. "It will be easier if you cooperate. Please don't make my family witness murder," she said, looking at the tables and the faces watching us keenly. "They're my people and my family. So is Razia." At the words, I thought I could throttle her. "I don't wish her dead. So, please, just say yes."

"You're a monster."

"You've said that before."

"You don't deserve—"

"—anyone I say I love."

"Selene, _please_ ," I begged.

She kissed me and I could taste my tears as they fell onto both our lips. She pulled back and the crowd cheered for the bride and groom. "Sometimes," she said, stroking back my hair tenderly, "losing is the only way to win."

"Please."

"You will lose but you will win me."

"Please…" I sobbed, bowing my head.

"You just have to say yes."

I didn't say anything. The same thought played in my mind in a loop, _where are you, Ed?_

" _Just say yes._ "

And I did.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please read: the dream sequence written in italics is intense and adult-themed and might be triggering. It's short and nothing explicit. I won't reveal too much in order to avoid spoiling it. But this is where the T Plus rating begins. So, please, approach cautiously]

**Edmund**

The waves were calm and shallow. I was just shallow. Like my heart had been hollowed out. I gripped the railing again, feeling the blood drain from my knuckles and my palms burn hot. I bowed my head and a perfect tear fell undefiled onto the wood on the deck. I looked up at the sea again, watching intently, as the sea, heedless of the sorrow and the despair of the numerous hearts travelling along it, danced and waves rose and sank steadily. I had come out here in hope that I could calm down and just _breathe_. But I was failing. More tears fell and I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to breathe. _Just breathe,_ my brother would always tell me. _My_ brother.

"Ed."

I quickly wiped my eyes but did not turn, leaning more heavily on the railing. I refused to look at her, see the utter despair and loneliness in her eyes. It would break me.

"Edmund."

I still didn't turn. But then she touched my shoulder. And I _broke_. I let myself cry. For the first time in seven days, I allowed myself to weep, freely. She squeezed my shoulder once and then enveloped me into a hug, wrapping her slender arms around me. We both sank down, against the railing. I buried my face into the crook of her neck, missing the presence and warmth of her long hair. She hadn't let them loose even once in a week. "I miss him," I croaked.

"I miss him, too," she admitted, kissing my hair. "But we'll get him back, Ed. We're so close."

I sniffed, wiping my nose with my sleeve, squeezing her tighter. "What if we're too late?"

"It's never too late, remember that."

"But what if—what if he—What if he's dead already!" I exclaimed, slicing my heart with the dreadful words. "You didn't see her, Lu. Selene, she's—she's _evil_. Almost worse than _Jadis_. How can _anyone_ be worse than Jadis?"

"Hush, Ed. You said she loves him." I nodded. "If she loves him, she won't kill him, no matter how evil she is. Do you know Jadis could never smile even if she tried?" I chuckled softly. "And I've seen Selene smile. She may be evil. But perhaps, by the grace of Aslan, not cruel. Peter is safe, Ed, I promise you. Didn't you tell our crew the same only minutes ago?"

"It's still hard to believe it." I sighed and squeezed her even tighter, unwilling to let her go. "Where's Susan?"

"She's with Orieus and Athelius, discussing strategies. I asked her to come. She—"

"I'm here," said our older sister's voice. We both finally pulled back to look at her, standing a few feet away, her loose hair swaying in the wind. "And it looks like you two cuddled without me!"

"Susan!" I and Lucy exclaimed simultaneously.

Susan laughed. "I'm only joking. But, really, you two do look like you need a hug from the big sister! All right," she said, walking over to us, "come here, you _little_ siblings," she said, pulling us both into a hug.

"Little nothing!" Lucy and I protested.

"Right," she said, pulling back. "But it's really past your bedtime."

"Susan!"

"Alright, alright!" she said when we both swatted her arms. "But Ed here," she said, looking at me with a frown, "desperately needs to sleep." She traced the skin under my eyes. I made a face. "See this?" she said to Lucy. "This is the product of a lack of sleep."

Lucy chuckled. "They really are dark bags, Ed. You haven't slept in…in…when _did_ you sleep?" asked Lucy, suddenly concerned.

_Not in the last twenty-four hours_ , I thought. But no one could blame me. The last seven days had been anything but easy.

Selene (curse her cleverness) had tricked us, effortlessly. Sailing with _The_ _Bellentine_ , we had given a hot chase to _The Winterflower_ , a trade ship! It led us all the way to Wkhall. There, at the docks, we had frantically searched the entire ship, ripping apart crates, tearing down the doors, questioning people frenziedly. And they told us that that was a trade ship, and certainly hadn't been used to smuggle the High King of _any_ country across the waters. But I'd seen, in their eyes, some doubts. I, Mr. Tumnus (who had sneaked onto _The Bellentine's_ storage room despite the danger) and Achemus (who had always been good in befriending strangers with his charm) had questioned them. Not harshly but patiently. None of them spilled anything, not even a hint, just the same uncertain glint in their eyes, the nervous headshakes. And as if they knew the gravity and consequences of their lies, they turned away after they answered us. Then almost six hours later, Mr. Tumnus had pulled me and Achemus both to a corner of the small inn we had hired for questioning (for as long as the governor did not discover our presence in the Galman colony). Mr. Tumnus, without giving us much explanation, had then led us to the back of the inn, and into an alley. There, we met Vira. She, who claimed to be more daring than the other sailors, told us that the Princess Selene of Galma had boarded the ship. She had then flown off with her sister, the Princess Felana. On a Narnian Griffin. To a warship sailing close to them, _The Nymphen_.

And on board, had been Peter. We had sailed right past him. With no more than a few miles between us. We were oblivious to him, to our High King, to _my brother_. But I simply gave Vira a nod and rewarded her with a few gold coins. She had left satisfied. Then with the sorrow still burdening my soul, I had to walk supported, between Achemus and Mr. Tumnus. Inside the inn, I had slept on Orieus's command. I woke that night to find Su sleeping stiffly in an armchair by my bedside. I had wanted so badly to hold her and just _cry_. But I held it all in, not letting it flood out when my brother needed me. Not yet. After a shouting match with Orieus and Athelius (who had unexpectedly teamed up against me), I managed to arrange for us to sail that very night. The crew was weary and despaired, especially the rowers. But I could not afford to waste any more time. _The Bellentine_ sailed past the distant eastern islands we had not yet explored. And we sailed south. I didn't sleep on the first night. Then, on the next day, I was discussing some plans with my General and lieutenants when exhaustion finally wore me out, and I was forced to bed by my elder sister (Lucy had been unpleased with me too).

I woke to a sword pointed at my throat. With my bleary eyes, I could scarcely make out the large figure towering above me. But in an instant, I knew it was Raviar. He grinned and swung his sword in his hand before thrusting it through the air, and then into the mattress where I had been. I was quick and agile. He was surprised but not unpleased. He swung his sword at me again and again and again. And every time, I had simply to duck. He missed each time, and I kicked his knee. He fell, back first, sword lost. By that time, my guards, and the lieutenant Sybil had rushed in. They arrested him and locked him in one of the empty storage rooms. And while Lucy was treating a small gash on my neck (with Susan and Mr. Tumnus hovering near anxiously), Orieus told me all he and Sinon had learned from Raviar.

And we kept sailing south. Right past Galma. And on the third night, I let two tears fall when the hills of the Fiemàn district moved past me and I watched the island of Galma grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely behind the waves, taking with it, my brother. When, on the fifth day, we reached the port of Caudisa, I found myself holding a weeping Corin, complaining that his father wouldn't let him come with us. I kissed his cheeks and promised him I would bring Peter home and that he should wait at Cair Paravel for us. In Caudisa, we left behind Mr. Tumnus (despite his vehement objections), Achemus, and Rea the Rabbit, and many more, those who weren't suited for battle (I had also to convince King Lune that he should stay at Anvard). We collected the Archen and Narnian troops that had, on receiving my message, gathered in Caudisa. And they boarded the three ships King Lune had graciously lent us.

Then, with Rigel as the new captain of _The Bellentine_ , we sailed north-east. We would have reached Fiemàn that very day (for Caudisa is the easternmost district of Archenland), but we didn't sail there. We wound past the south-west ports, sailing a safe distance away from the shore so the sailors could not spot us. We were to dock at Hiekā.

And now, we were mere hours away from the shore. Hours away from Peter. Hours away from my brother. My brother who we were too late to save.

"Ed," said Susan's voice close to my ear and I leaned against her. "Ed, we're not too late," she said, rubbing my arm.

Lucy nodded at me and pressed a kiss to my forehead, joining the huddle once again. "Remember what Peter says."

I smiled.

"If we lose each other…" I said.

"…everything and every force…" said Susan.

"…will strive to unite us…" Lucy said with a large smile.

"…for such is our love," all three of us finished together. Lucy smiled. "So, we won't be too late. Because, here, on _The Bellentine_ , is where Aslan wants us to be. Where everything has led us. We've come this far. We'll find him."

I sobbed a hitched breath and nodded. Susan wiped my eyes. " _But,_ " she said, "I do not think he will be too happy to find that you've exhausted yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "Peter really is a mother hen sometimes, isn't he?"

"Even worse than Susan," Lucy chimed in with a mock grin.

"Hey!" Then Susan laughed. "Alright. You two need to go to bed. Now," she added firmly, pulling me to my feet by my arms. She kissed both our cheeks and shooed us away. We were just about to head below deck.

But I turned. "What about you?"

"I've got to meet with Sybil and Athelius and their soldiers. They're the most important," Susan replied with a smile, braiding her hair again.

"But, Su," said Lucy, "you need to sleep, too!"

"I slept in the afternoon. Really, I'm fine. And who's the mother hen now?"

I couldn't help the grin when Lu scowled.

* * *

_Peter's wish was trivial, small, and yet I could not provide it. My brother just wanted me to_ **help** _him. It was as simple. He pleaded, prayed, begged. With his hand indefinitely stretched forward, reaching towards me, and his eyes boring into me with their hope, that hollow hope. But I could not move, couldn't lift my feet, or step an inch towards him. I remained frozen like a statue, watching from far away, with a languid sea between us. I watched him bound and helpless. I watched as she kissed his lips tenderly, affectionately, yet with no true love. The gentle kiss soon became harsh and painful, demanding lust, not love. He struggled against her but the bonds kept him still. I watched as she pinned him, slowly undressing him, even as she cried the Lion's name desperately, shedding tears of pain. I watched as she consumed him whole, marring his skin and soul, and I wished myself blind. But I was frozen, and could not close my eyes, so I watched as he screamed and she continued her monstrous deed, laughing and moaning._

_And then, all was silent, she was gone, my brother's screams were gone, and I watched as he lay there, unblinking, unbelieving, and uncomprehending. He lay on his back, and kept staring at the ceiling with a still and emotionless face. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes and slid down his temple. They fell onto the mattress and formed perfect circles before vanishing into the fabric. He remained unmoving and wept so silently that I could believe this worse than the tortured and agonised screams he had let out as she had ripped him away. He never moved. And I watched, frozen, for an eternity. His tears never stopped, and his eyes never blinked, just staring without focus at the ceiling. Moments and centuries passed as I watched and he wept crudely. I blinked._

_And I watched him tied to a tree, harsh ropes around him. Then she came and he was filled with sheer and profound terror. He turned away from her, struggling against the ropes, doing anything and everything to just_ get **away** from her! _She dug her slender fingers into his cheeks, forcing his head against the coarse trunk of the tree, letting the splinters cut his skin, the skin she had defiled. She kissed him again and he wept once more. She kept her lips on his and pulled out a knife. And I, still frozen, watched as she sliced my brother's throat. I watched, from the distance of an entire sea, as **my brother** died. And I watched as she, with no remorse, laughed and kept kissing him until the blood on his neck dried._

" _PETER_!" I screamed desperately, jolting up from the bed, my heart thumping against my ribs ferociously, as if attempting to escape. "Peter. Peter. Peter. _Peter_ ," I sobbed, pulling up my legs against my chest with my arms around them, hiding my face into my knees. "Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter…"

"Edmund."

I didn't look up. I couldn't move. "Peter. _Peter_."

"King Edmund, we've arrived."

I hugged my legs tighter, wiping my eyes with my thumb even as my face remained buried into my knees.

"Edmund," said my General. And I felt warm arms wrap around me. I broke again.

"Why?" I asked, loosening my arms to lean on him. "Why did it have to be _him_? Why did he have to be hurt? He's never harmed anyone. Never done wrong. Never . . . Why, Orieus, can't I suffer in his stead even if I'm willing? Why couldn't it be me instead?"

"For then," said he, "the High King would be feeling your pain. And do you, King Edmund, wish that upon him?"

I licked my lips when a salty tear brushed past the corner of my lips. "No . . ." I said. "Aslan, no. He'd die."

He pulled away and wiped his own tears. "But we will save him," he said with a smile. "Get ready and come outside. The Queens are waiting for you. So is your army."

* * *

My sisters were standing between the tigresses, Brie and Bell, their personal guards. Susan and Lu looked marvellous and invincible in their leather armours. I could not help a proud smile as I walked down the plank. I let my eyes turn left. The first right flank was led by Kivus and his brother, Trivel (they seemed to have regained a lost bond during the sail). The second by one my most trusted lieutenants, Sinon. The middle flank would follow the Lord Aristeus of Archenland. The other two flanks were under Orieus's command. There were about five hundred soldiers in total, and of course, that meant it would not be easy to hide them. When I reached the ground, followed by Vo and Vella, and Orieus, I began trotting over to where Aristeus, Sinon, Kivus and Trivel, and my sisters stood with their guards.

My lieutenants bowed and Aristeus also gave me a subsequent solemn and consoling look. Lucy was giggling very softly as Brie's whiskers were tickling her skin. Susan urged me to speak with a silent nod. I nodded back and looked at Kivus and Trivel. "Your flank will lead in the rightmost chasms."

The brothers looked at each other and nodded. "We will not fail you, Sire," said Trivel, bowing his head low.

"I do not doubt it," I said. I turned to Sinon. "You will fall behind Kivus and his troops. Since the number of your soldiers is larger, the narrower chasms will hinder your movement, but you must be swift. So split from Kivus's troops once you've reached the first turn. When you reach Fiemàn, you will be separated by four—"

"Three," Susan said suddenly, drawing all eyes to her. I smiled at her.

"Three miles, as your Queen said. Don't try to cover the distance. You will attack from your posts if the time comes."

Sinon bowed again with his sword placed in front of him. "I will not fail you, my King," he said.

"I know," I said, smiling. Then I turned to Aristeus. "Good Lord," I said, and he nodded humbly, "Your flank is the largest. You must stay here until reinforcements are called. Then, journey swiftly through the plains, to the battleground."

"Your Majesty," he said.

"And the locals mustn't be harassed. If you must keep them quiet, offer them a reward. In case they refuse it, then you may opt to different but not abusive measures."

"I will not fail you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing low.

"I do not doubt it," I said.

I turned back to face my General. "Orieus. We've discussed it several times but I relay it once more. The first of your soldiers will lead after Sinon's men. And the smaller number will climb the hills in the west. From your post, strive east. In case the battle approaches faster than anticipated, attack from where you've reached."

Orieus nodded. "I will not fail you, my King."

"I am certain." I smiled at him sombrely. Vo and Vella inched closer to me and I realised it was time. "Have Sybil and Athelius reached the Gates of the city?"

"The Eagles have brought news that they've safely arrived and dealt as planned there."

"And has Sybil—"

"He and his men have begun their sail to the West. The river's current is in our favour. We can only pray to Aslan the dark hides them."

"Don't worry, Orieus," I said with a smirk, "I've taught him how to disguise himself and elude the Galmans. He seems to have a talent for it."

Lucy giggled loudly this time, both due to the tickling and my comment. Then she turned serious. "I still think Susan should stay in my place."

Susan squeezed her shoulder. "Lu, don't be silly, you can do this."

She shook her head and looked around, her gaze lingering on _her_ lieutenants (Kivus and Trivel nodded, while Sinon and Aristeus bowed to her, making her blush), and the soldiers that stood in straight lines, all armed and ready to follow their Queen's command. At last, she looked at her General, ready to serve and die if needed, under and in her name. She looked at me and shook her head. "I've never done this, led an army. A whole army! I can't even use a sword properly! (And no, I'm not skilled enough with a bow either). What if I make the wrong decisions? What if—what if _my_ soldiers die because of _me_? What then, Ed?"

"Then," I said, embracing her lightly once, "they will not die in vain, Lu."

She sobbed and Susan stroked the loose strands of her hair. "And besides, you have Orieus and Aristeus to guide you." (They both nodded at Lucy simultaneously). "Sinon and Kivus can give you some more lessons in swordfighting before you have to start moving. And you know Trivel's skilled in archery."

Lucy nodded twice, blinking back the few tears that had brimmed up.

"And besides," said I, "there probably won't be a need of a battle anyway. We'll have Peter sailing back before they even realise he's gone." She smiled. I turned to Orieus. "What have they found from Raviar?"

And he related to me the entire outline of the castle of Galma, though Susan remembered much of it already. But Raviar could tell us of the deeper parts of the castle, about the dungeons underground, and the cells at the top. When Orieus was finished, I said, "Are you sure that they think he's dead?"

"There is no way to know for certain, King Edmund. But it is most likely that they do. Unless they do not value him enough. Either way, it has won us his allegiance."

I shook my head and my sisters and lieutenants gave me questioning looks. Even Vo and Vella's ears perked up. "It's not that simple, Orieus. There is something else, I'm sure. He's too loyal and noble to betray them without a cause." He gulped and then nodded.

I then knelt down and beckoned the tigresses to come closer with one hand as I rubbed Vella's neck with the other. "Sire?" she and her sister said.

"Guard Queen Lucy," I told all four of them. "Guard her with your life."

"But what of our Kings and Gentle Queen?" Brie said with a sombre look.

"We'll be fine," I said, aware that Lucy was close to tears again. I kissed all their foreheads (Bell giggled the loudest) and said, "I will bring the High King home. I promise."

"Alright now," I said, standing up. "We must go," I said to Susan. And Lucy instantly threw herself at me.

"Please," she said, "please, you come home, too. All three of you!"

Susan wrapped her arms around us as well. "Don't worry, Lu. I'll look after them."

Lucy chuckled (as did everyone else, even Orieus) and pulled back. "That I have no doubt about."

I nodded at my lieutenants once again and then turned to Orieus. "The horses?"

"They—"

"Your Majesties!" came a hollering voice from a distance, and I turned to see a figure sprinting through the fields towards us, with three or more guards running after him with their swords drawn. Vo and Vella jumped in front of me and Susan and bared their teeth, while Brie and Bell guarded Lucy. Sinon, Aristeus, and Kivus had pulled out their swords, while Trivel had an arrow pointed at the figure still sprinting towards us. "Your Majesties, please!" he said as he came closer to the tree we were standing under. "I come in peace! And I have news!"

I waved a hand and all weapons vanished, and the tigresses and the leopard sisters settled down. When he finally reached us, he said, panting, "Your—your Majesties." He tried to bow. "I'm Tvar," he said. (Lucy said it was a beautiful name). "Oh, your Majesties, it is bad."

"What is?" said Orieus, quickly growing impatient and averted by the boy's unpoised conduct.

Lucy gave Orieus a look and said, "Calm down, Tvar." I exchanged glances with Susan and we all watched patiently as Tvar tried to breathe. When he could finally stop panting, Lu said, "Now tell."

He drew in a hitched breath. "Your Majesties, the High King, he—he wedded the Princess Selene last night. They are _married_."

"What?" everyone around me said, some in forms of whispers, others in loud exclamations.

I remained silent, uncomprehending. Because we, at last, had been _too late_.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please read: the same warning applies for the last section. It's nothing explicit. And it's telling not showing, so most of you should be alright reading it. Though beware some more adult themes.]

**Peter**

After she kissed me, we were separated. She was led away by her giggling sister and her maidens and another older woman. While Volos and Tamur (who had _not_ , in fact, drunk any wine, too conscious about their duties as my attendants) pulled me away and took me down the stairs of the dais. And I followed, unblinking. I didn't understand, couldn't _comprehend_ the reality. That I was married. To a demonish woman I didn't love. My gaze was unfocused, blurry faces and their judging eyes, and murmured gossips, all passing by me rapidly as I stumbled like a drunkard between Volos and Tamur. As we moved through the thickening crowd, my tears fell and left a dotted trail on the marble ground. At last our trek came to an end and I was pushed down onto a chair, turned towards the round table at my disposal. I stared blankly at the white fabric in front of my eyes and fragments of the words Aviso had said, the single word I had forcefully uttered, all flashed before me. I no longer tried to understand or suppress the tears. They poured out and I balled the silk cloth in my hands.

Why? I found myself asking. Why me? Why was _I_ subject to such fate? What horrendous deed had I committed to be married to a woman I scarcely knew? How was I to uphold the sacred bond that seemed to lead people's entire lives when that bond was without love? I had always wanted to marry when I was ready, before Aslan and with my siblings' approval and their blessings, had wanted Ed to steal her away saying that she was his sister and I would always come second, earning my laughs when she would agree. I had wanted to learn to love that way, that love which would never be as profound and sacred as the one I shared with my siblings and Aslan, but that love which taught new things every _single_ day, and taught how to _care_ in a way I had never known, that gave a new sense of life, a different purpose to live. But it was denied to me. And I thought, now, that to love in _that_ way was not meant for me. I would never learn its meaning, for my own wife was going to torture me to death. And I preferred it that way. Preferred death rather than being married to _her_.

I didn't realise when my tears subsided or when acceptance suddenly came. I clasped my hands together and prayed to Aslan for my siblings' safety, that they should be safe, and I should die, at the hands of Selene.

"Peter," said a voice from my left and I turned away from her. She clasped my hands and I flinched, blinking back tears. "Peter, you know what Glevellunium is? What my sister suffers every day and every night?" I didn't reply. "Peter, lawfully, you're my brother (my brother whom I've kissed, she laughed), and I want to help you understand your wife." I winced at the word again. "It began when she was thirteen," she said, "right after Colvir (my eldest brother) and my mother died. Our uncle, the once King Amir also died a month later. So much grief, Peter, in such a short span. She _broke_. And the curse finally had the upper hand. My father taught her how to fight and let the curse channel in battles and skirmishes. But then the war ended. And the curse still craved blood. She was allowed to kill the prisoners, but soon, the evil was starting to affect us too. My father's ministers wanted her to be killed." She squeezed my hand and I shifted. "That's when she met _him_. And she was cured. Healed with love. Until Father, in his stupid pride, killed him. Days later, Cara, our youngest sister, died of illness. Then the only brother we had left was taken from us too, killed by pirates. And the fiend, as Selene calls it, came back. But it would not stay always. Sometimes," she said, wiping a tear from my cheek, "she would be just… _Selene_. Then she saw you. And she saw an escape. You were that escape. But today, you _destroyed_ her."

I snatched back my hand, turning my back on her.

"Perhaps," she said with slight doubt, "you can still fix it. Help her escape, Peter. Love her and help her rise above the curse. Please."

"No," was all I said.

"You don't have to die, I don't have to keep missing my sister!"

"No."

"You're certain?"

"Yes."

"Then so be it. She'll kill everyone you love. And then she'll kill you. Your kingdom will be destroyed and so will be ours (because, yes, my father is a fool)." Then her voice was gone and I felt her presence leave.

I breathed out heavily and slumped in my chair, watching the couples dance as the slow melody played. I spotted Srif dancing with a younger girl, both laughing joyously, and I saw Tromin dancing with his eldest daughter, twirling her about. Even Aviso was enjoying a dance with the elderly woman who had been keeping Selene company the entire day. I rubbed my face with both my hands, trying to dry my tear-stricken face. Then I shook my head, dishevelling my ruddy hair.

Then, suddenly, the chair was pulled back, and I watched a young girl with grey eyes and black and trimmed hair sit beside me. "No one is guarding you?" she asked, her breath smelled of very poor wine.

I fought the urge to pinch my nose to block the smell and looked around twice before answering her. "Osgar's men are scattered all around."

She laughed and I noticed how red and puffy her eyes were. She was evidently stuporous and covered her ears as if the soft tapping of boots and the soft melody were tumultuous and unpleasant to hear. "Lady?" I said. "Are you quite fine?"

"No," she said, bringing down her hands. "Your wife is going hang me tomorrow because I think your eyes are beautiful."

I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry – I – perhaps if I talked to her?"

"No, no," she said, waving a hand. "I'm fine. I've made my peace."

"I'm sorry, lady. May I know your name?"

"Zar," she said with a sullen face. "Do you love her? Oh, of course, you don't. Who can? Do you know there is going to be a grand feast when the dancing ends? And you don't know anyone, do you? Well, if you're going to be a son of this house, you might well know its people. The King, you must already know of. There, that young girl dancing with the handsome man," she said, pointing at Srif. "They're Malar's children. Srif and Sera. And you've already met Aviso. He's Malar's nephew. And the one dancing with him, the young girl," she said, and I noticed Aviso had changed partners, "is his daughter, Kyra." I nodded. "Don't look at her like that," she chided, even though I was scarcely even _looking_ at her, "she's your niece!" I gave the young woman a sideways glance of my eyes. "Two more of Selene's cousins, Ovin and Mevisa, are dancing over there," she said, looking at the dancing pair some feet away from Selene. "And there's, of course, Kaios, the King's most trusted lieutenant and undoubtedly part of the family."

I looked around for him. But he was nowhere in sight. "All of them," Zar said, "will be joining you at dinner. So, hear, hear. Srif likes to bet all his father's treasury away. Sera is a bold girl. She'll likely insult you when she sees you. Kyra is shy and won't look you in the eye. Ovin and Mevisa are twins and will threaten to slit your throat if you insult the other. And you know everyone else."

"That was…helpful," I said, smiling awakwardly. "But who's that?" I said, pointing at the elderly woman who'd been dancing with Aviso.

" _That_ is Leoma," Zar said. "It's because she's healthy again that I will be hanged. She's the Princess's eldest attendant."

My brows furrowed. "But she's been mingling with the royal family as if—"

"Selene thinks of her as her mother," Zar said, sighing.

"I see." She stood up. "You're leaving?"

"I have something important to do before I die," she said, smiling. "And anyway, the crowd is thinning. You are going to dine."

* * *

I was led back into the castle (much to my dismay as I had only now let the melody soothe me) by Volos and Tamur, followed closely by the guards Osgar had sent with me lest I should get another asinine escape idea in my head. They took me to my chambers and helped me dress into much more regal and presentable clothing, all topped by a surcoat, similar in shine and design to the previous blue one. Only it was brown.

Then, my attendants ushered me out of the room, and took me to the large dining hall. It was larger than the Great Hall. And yes, much grander. The hall was almost completely empty except for the very obvious and immense presence of the dining table in the middle. There were sixteen chairs, one at each edge, and seven at the longer sides. The guards shoved me forward when I remained unmoving and I forced to sit between Kyra and Srif, and directly opposite to Kaios. He wouldn't meet my eyes. The seat was cushioned and I felt as if I weighed as light as a feather on it. At the last and the largest chair, sat Tromin with his crown resting atop his dark head. Beside him, sat his daughters, completing the royal family of Galma. Next to Felana, was Leoma. Beside Leoma was Kaios. On his right, Aviso (who seemed to be the only one allowed to talk to him at the moment). And finally, next to Aviso, was Sera, then Ovin. On my side, everyone sat in this order: Selene, then Srif, then I, then Kyra, Malar, and then finally, Mevisa. The remaining three seats were left empty.

There was a very awkward silence, with me looking at everyone's faces confusedly (Kyra never looked up from her lap).

Then, relenting to the undefeatable silence, I frowned and sat silently in my chair. Until, at last, the food was served. And the banquet was as nothing as I'd ever seen. Everything was lavish and lusher than the reddest apples and sumptuous and their smells scrumptious. It was unbelievable. With turkeys and chickens and geese. Salmons. Venison steaks. Lobsters and salad, stuffed with almonds and sprinkled with their crusts. There were cakes and pies and sugars of all colours. Cream thick and soft. For fruits, there were apples and pineapples and peaches and pomegranates and mangoes and oranges and melons. Nuts of all kinds, enough to feed ten families of Narnian squirrels.* And the wine and the beer were rich-smelling and I could not divert my senses from their floating smell.

The feast began.

I was nudged from the right. And I turned to see Srif. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really," I lied, "I've cried too much to eat."

Conversations and murmurs around the table almost hid the feeble voice of Leoma when she said, "Eat, child. You're angry, but don't let your stomach suffer for it." I thought I heard Kyra giggle very softly behind her hand, and Kaios did not try to hide his laughs. "And look how thin you are!" she exclaimed suddenly and reached over. I had to back away to avoid letting her jab a finger at my stomach. She sighed and sat on her chair again. Everyone was laughing. I blushed. "Eat," she said with such conviction, I was surprised everyone else didn't instantly begin shoving food into their mouths. "Eat now."

And I quickly snatched the plate Aviso had passed me. He laughed at me, shook his head, and began poking the large turkey he seemed to think he could finish alone. Srif nudged me in the ribs again and I slapped his arm away. Then I turned back to the table. I didn't know where to start.

"Here, your Majesty," said Kyra from my left. And a large dish appeared before me, filled with food. I thanked her and she blushed.

"So," said a voice I hadn't heard from the end of the table, "do the governors give you trouble in the east, King Tromin?" I turned left and realised Ovin had been speaking. His hair was orange, like his sister's, and his voice raspy like Gerulf's.

Tromin didn't reply at first and I looked at the venison steak. It was missing something. "Lemon juice," said two voices simultaneously, one I recognised, Srif's. The other—

"I'm Sera. And you ought to add lemon juice to it, your Highness."

Once more, everyone laughed. Leoma pushed the basket filled with lemons towards me, smiling, while Kaios tossed me a knife, which almost pierced my eye. "Are you trying to kill me?" I asked him.

"Perhaps," was his mumbled reply.

"King Tromin," said Malar's voice, "Ovin asked you whether—"

Tromin held up a hand and everyone stopped eating. Except me. I didn't care about his authority. "Peter," Felana hissed. " _Drop your fork_."

I looked around. All heads were bowed, except Tromin's. "Do you want to die?" Srif said, followed by Kyra's voice, "Your Majesty, we urge you," then Leoma, "Child, do it." I, however, looked at Kaios.

He hissed, " _Now_."

And I let the fork down. I realised I'd been shivering and uncomfortable. The dread disappeared when Tromin's gaze finally left me. He cleared his throat and the tension was lifted almost tangibly. The one who finally dared to speak was Mevisa, "Uncle?"

"Child," Tromin said with surprising affection and everyone began eating once more. "I'm sorry you must all bear my anger due to one insolent fool," he said, giving me a look. I turned away. "Well, Ovin, no, the governors have not been giving me trouble, since we've extended our relations in the east. And well, they fear my power now, as my eldest daughter is the High Queen of Narnia."

I closed my eyes and could feel the King's eyes on me, as if challenging me to counter him. I didn't say anything. It would be useless explaining to them that she hadn't been elected and crowned by Aslan. She was certainly not the High Queen. _Not my wife._

"And," spoke Sera, "have you all heard about the rebels collecting in the north again? They're proving to most inconvenient to the lords there."

I listened intently. Srif said, "Perhaps a little gold will solve the problem." Leoma gave him a disgusted glare while Kaios huffed. Srif rolled his eyes. "Gold is the answer to everything. You should learn that."

"Well," said Malar, "if you know the value of money, why do you insist on emptying my treasury?" Kaios smiled, inefficiently hiding it behind his hand. He took a bite of the wheaten cake.

"Perhaps because that treasury isn't yours in the first place," said Aviso as he took another bite of the pork.

Srif laughed. "Well said, cousin."

Aviso shot him a deadly glare. "Do not me call me that again."

"Oh, I think you would want dear Kyra to remain my niece." I looked at the said girl. She was blushing brutally, completely red.

"Shut up," said Ovin impatiently. "We have more important matters to discuss. For instance," he said, looking at me, "how are we going to take Narnia?"

I let them live in their world of fiction and ate more of the steak, enjoying the sour flavour of the lemon. Tromin spoke, "We let his siblings come to us, kill them, and then kill the High King."

Everyone except I, Malar and Tromin flinched. I couldn't see Selene's face without leaning ahead but I saw her knuckles go white around the knife's hilt she was holding. I looked at Kaios and he didn't look up. Clearly, he knew I knew of his petty lie.

Mevisa drank some of the beer she had poured herself and said, "Narnia is a large country, uncle, if they choose to rise against us—"

"Rise against their High Queen?"

I smiled at the shake in his voice.

"No," relented Mevisa, sensing the tension, "No, my King."

"But oh, oh," said Srif, "have you heard from the Hiekān Lord Veris? He was supposed to attend the wedding. I invited him personally."

"Yes, my own cousin sister in the city of Hiekā has been terribly silent," said Leoma, "She was supposed to write me."

"We will know the matter," said Aviso, "we've sent a messenger."

"But, what if it's another rebellion?" asked Ovin.

"Oh, certainly not?" asked Kyra in a low voice.

"No, it's not anything serious, I'm sure," said Aviso.

"You were sure you locked the Griffin securely, and yet," said Malar.

"Stop it," said Sera, "why do you two always have to fight?"

"We need better lords."

"A better duke than Malar."

"Purge the Guard and lower the expenses."

"Suppress the rebellions!"

"And better production."

"I've proposed building a dam at Hisella! It's the easiest way to supply water!"

After that, the arguments took an ugly turn. The voices were indistinct, the words lost in the hysteria. Ovin and Mevisa defended each other with a terrifying ferocity, while Malar and Aviso were butchering each other with words. Sera seemed to be envious of Kyra's quiet demeanour and was insulting her about it to hide her jealousy. Kyra was crying. And Aviso began fighting Srif. The non-participants watched, bemused. I was partly amused. Leoma looked positively averted. Kaios kept sighing. Tromin ignored it entirely, focusing on his food. Felana looked ready to leave. And Selene—

" _STOP IT_! You discordant and impudent _fools_!"

Utter silence.

"Tonight is my wedding night and _you_ will _not_ ruin it. I think we've had enough of this _quite_ a wonderful time and feast. Father, I ask your permission to leave." Tromin nodded and Selene stood up. She walked over to me and I inched away. But she pulled my collar and cleaned the corners of my mouth with a napkin. Then she ushered me out of the chair. "I will take my husband with me. You can murder each other for all I care now," she said, looking at the Aviso and Malar and Srif.

Then suddenly I was gripped by guards. I struggled. "Let me go!"

"Selene, are you sure?" Felana asked.

"I've waited too long."

"Selene—" Kaios sounded urgent and uncertain. But he cut himself off abruptly and focused on his food again.

I didn't understand. I tried to kick the men holding me. "Let me _go_!"

And when they led me out, the hall was uncomfortably silent.

* * *

I thrashed violently against the ropes that bound my hands to the headboard. And then the door opened. And she came. I could see her attendant through the doorway.

She strode over to me and pulled out a small knife. I closed my eyes. I waited, for the burning pain. But it didn't come. Instead there was a ripping sound and I realised she had just cut my tunic. I opened my eyes, frantic. "What are you doing?"

She kissed me. And the touch hurt, ice cold, invasive. I couldn't breathe when she drew back and I felt as if my whole body ached. She started breathlessly kissing me again. I groaned silently, twisting on the bed, wanting that she just _stopped_.

It hurt too much.

When she pulled back the next time, I was crying. I couldn't take it. "Please…"

"I'm only keeping my promise," she said, leaving kisses everywhere.

"St-o-op!" I begged.

She drew back again. "No. No, Peter, you chose this," she said, stroking my lip. "And you will bear it."

And the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *It's inspired from Lewis's texts and the instances when he described the Narnian feasts. And although I've added some subtle changes, it's mostly identical.


	25. Chapter 25

**Edmund**

I dropped to my knees as everything erupted into sheer hysteria. Peter was married. My brother, _my_ brother was married. To a monster. Everyone faded away as I tried to imagine my brother's tears as he was forced into this abomination. I could still hear his screams from my dream. The silent tears, the blank and uncomprehending face, the blue mattress, and the bleeding chest. I could _smell_ the blood seeping down his neck as she kissed him. What if it was real? Oh, Aslan, _what if_?

"Ed," said my sisters simultaneously, "do get up!"

I tried to look for them but my vision had blackened. My breaths trembled as I inhaled deeply and pushed myself off the ground forcefully. I put my hand on the first shoulder I could find for balance and tried to breathe. I nodded twice, swallowing hard, thanking Aristeus for supporting me.

"Ed?"

"It changes nothing," I said when the world finally stopped spinning and my vision brightened once again. "Absolutely nothing."

"Only that we need to get there faster," said Susan, and all heads nodded.

"Your Majesty, if I may?" said Tvar and Orieus ushered him forward. "Perhaps you know of the—the Narnian Griffin?"

"The traitor that took Peter?" asked Lucy, angered. I squeezed her shoulder.

Tvar closed his eyes and promptly opened them again, breathing heavily. "No, your Majesty. Not traitorous. Just a victim. His father was a rogue and flew to Hiekā with his son when the Witch's tyranny ended. Tvar told me all about it."

"Tvar?" said Kivus. "That's _your_ name."

"Also the Griffin's," he said, smiling. "Your Majesties, please, give him a chance to prove himself. Let him fly you to the castle and to the High King."

"Why would he help us now?" asked Orieus, warily.

"You see, he escaped three days ago. I've managed to hide him. But I don't doubt they'll find him soon. And if they do…" He hid his face in his hands and Lucy smiled consolingly at him. Susan and I exchanged a solemn glance. "Please, your Majesties."

"Very well," I said, taking Susan's hand in mine, smiling at her. She adjusted her bow and quiver and smiled back. "Take us to him."

* * *

The castle was bigger than I had imagined and I had only caught glimpses of it through the ferocious beating of Tvar's wings. We had approached the southern part of the castle. And it seemed it wasn't the best choice. The courtyard below us was bustling with activity, with servants going to and fro and doing their daily chores, and soldiers practicing with swords. However, none of them ever looked up, not even the guards patrolling the castle walls anticipated an attack from the sky. I smiled at my sister as we flew right over them, alerting no one. Then, the courtyard ended in an abrupt slanted wall.

Tvar beat his wings with more force and ascended further up. Susan held onto me and I wrapped my arms around Tvar's neck, clinging, as we flew directly into the sky. Then he slowed and we both breathed a relieved sigh as he straightened and steadily lowered himself on the nearest balcony. When he landed and his wings stopped beating, I slid off him and helped my sister down, gently pushing Tvar down and urging him to remain silent.

I and Susan both knelt beside Tvar. "Now what?" she asked me.

"You stay here," I told her, standing up. I walked to the railing and glanced down. We were easily two hundred feet above the ground. Luckily, there were extended walls on both sides of the balcony, for privacy it seemed. That hid us from the view of the guards on the walls of the castle. Tvar had made an intelligent choice. We were invisible here. I strode back to Susan, pulling her to her feet. Tvar stood as well.

"Now, listen," I said. "This is the best hiding place we'll find. You must stay here until I come back with Peter, alright?"

She looked incredulous at first. Then she said, firmly, "I'm going with you, Ed."

I inhaled deeply and looked around. The balcony was large, as large as the Grand Eastern Balcony of Cair. The gate on the northern side was big enough to fit a small giant. There were no windows, but a few small plants were scattered at the edges. There were two tables with four big chairs at the eastern end. Susan could easily hide behind them. She would be safe here and lest something should go wrong, Tvar could easily fly her back before anyone was the wiser.

"Look here, Su," I said, "navigating the castle is difficult enough but with you to hide with me as well, it would be near impossible to not get caught." It was a cheap excuse. But it was the only _logical_ excuse I had.

My sister gave me a hurt look. "Then why did you bring me along in the first place?"

I smiled, taking her hand in mine. "Because if something goes awry, you can come save us."

She shook her head. "You really can't lie, Ed."

"Alright," I said, "if something goes wrong, I need you to fly back, to tell the army to attack without wait."

Su wiped the tears brimming up in her eyes. "Ed—"

"Shh," I said, pulling her into a tight embrace, "I promise I'll come back. _With_ Peter."

She kissed my cheek and pulled back. "I know. I trust you."

"That's all I needed to hear."

* * *

The room attached to the balcony had been, luckily, empty. It was a grand room, with a lavish bed in the middle, and curtains of silk and blue to match the theme of the room. I had stopped once to give Susan one last smile. Then, I locked the door, and started out.

Stealth was one of my strengths, and the shadows in the deeper part of the castle were easier to find. I stuck to them. My steps were soundless. I did not know where Peter was, but Raviar had related that he was most likely being held somewhere in the southern wing, as an honoured guest. So, as I passed by them, I took the risk of knocking twice and then knocking once more after a pause at every door. If Peter had been in them, he would have recognised the knock and called me in. But I had to hide behind the curtains every time the door opened and a bemused head poked out. Then a subsequent sigh would follow and a clap of the door closing gently. It seemed everyone was too tired and stuporous to report the suspicious activity. Then, once I had searched the whole corridor and was satisfied that my brother was nowhere in the vicinity, I descended the flight of the marble stairs.

The floor below was not as empty as the first one had been. And I knew instantly that Peter was here. Most of the guards were concentrated at the far end of the corridor, immobile but alert. I took a deep breath and crawled behind one of the tables. I needed to distract them. Oh, only if I'd brought Susan with. I sighed. And then, there came a deafening sound of something crashing. A subsequent thud. And shrieks and screamed rebukes and chides.

"It's the dog! She's brought a dog!" came a faintly permeated voice from a distance.

The guards exchanged anxious glances. "The kitchens again," one said.

"We should go," another replied.

"But what of—"

"He hasn't moved from his bed since morning. And the Princess has assured he won't try to escape. Perhaps he has finally given up on his people."

"Accepted his fate?"

The second one shrugged. All heads nodded at him in appreciation of an excused reprieve that he'd suggested. Then a third man, one at the end of the group, clapped shoulders, and ushered the men away, leaving one miserable new recruit in their places. "I've a mate working in the kitchens. We might be allowed some of the leftovers from the night's feast!"

Someone answered the voice but the reply was too faint to be coherent. I closed my eyes once, praying to Aslan for Peter's well-being and safety. He had been with us all this time. I was sure he would look after us till the end of this new terrifying adventure. Then, I revealed myself. And instantly, the initially startled guard brandished his sword and charged. With little effort, I had disarmed him. That was when he opened his mouth to scream for the guards. Before he could achieve even a squeak, I had knocked him out with Alvera's hilt. He dropped, limp, on the ground with a small thud. I sighed. I had to drag him to one of the tables and then manoeuvre him under it. He curled up against the wall, soundly asleep. I moved back a few paces to check if he was visible. Satisfied, I turned to the door he had been guarding.

Peter. _Peter._

I turned the knob. The door led me to an anteroom. It was small and narrow and I had not expected it. We have very few of these in Cair Paravel itself. But even more unexpected were the two unfamiliar faces staring at me with started expressions. I already had Vera raised. They threw their hands up in surrender and dared not utter a sound.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Volos," one replied, "this is my brother, Tamur," he said, gesturing at the other boy with one raised hand.

"No, _who_ are you?" I said, unsatisfied.

"The—the king's attendants," stuttered the boy.

I nodded and sheathed my sword. "He's in there?"

They both nodded, albeit hesitantly, and even more hesitantly brought down their hands. "You—you're his brother," said the other boy, Tamur.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"You—your Highness. But—but he's—"

"Yes?"

Volos shook his head. "You should go in."

I furrowed my brows at them but they remained silent and did not speak further on the matter. With another skeptical look, I walked to the door, trusting them enough to remain quiet. They seemed fine enough about my presence here. I turned to the white door and felt my heart make a giant leap. I was elated, ecstatic, and overwhelmed with relief. My brother, _my_ brother was on the other side of this door. And yet, there was a terrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach. He had been silent, almost deafeningly silent. He must have heard me but he didn't call my name or come running out or scold me for being as careless. With a slightly quivering hand and a still face, I turned the knob.

The door creaked open.

The room seemed empty. It felt grey and sad like a graveyard. And though the opulence was unmatched, it did nothing to lift the thick tension in the air. My eyes ignored everything and fell on the raised bundle of blankets on the wide, glossy bed. I would have thought the bed unoccupied had it not been for the blessedly familiar fair mop of hair resting on the pillows. His hair was the only part of him that wasn't tucked underneath the blankets. My heart completely shattered and I felt as if a giant had just stomped over my body. Everything ached.

"P—Peter?"

He didn't move, didn't make a sound. My gut twisted and I had to close my eyes to refrain myself from screaming in the agony of my heart. He was alive, I could feel it, could just hear his shallow breathing. But oh, Aslan, what had happened to my brother? With slow and trembling steps, I moved towards him.

"Peter?"

Still no movement. I reached the edge of the bed. Tremors raged through me as I nudged his shoulder gingerly.

"Pete." When I still didn't get a reply, a desperate sob tore through my throat. "Peter, please."

I pulled down the blanket to see his face. It was tear-stricken. His eyes were screwed shut. I shook his shoulder, wanting, desperately, to get some reaction. He pulled the blanket over himself and nuzzled deeper into the bed, away from me. I walked to the other side of bed and forced the blanket down.

"Peter," I said, cupping the visible side of his face with my hand.

And instantly, he flinched away with a violent start. "No!" he yelled, struggling with the blanket, kicking it until he was free. Then, before he could slide of the bed, I grabbed his wrist (to which he screamed and twisted away). I yanked him towards me, struggling to get my arms around his shoulders as I tried not to groan at his punches. He slammed his fists into my chest even as I crushed his thin figure to me. "You can't!" he was screaming into my ear, but I only held him tighter. "You shouldn't touch me! You—you're not supposed to—to—"

"Shh," I told him, "hush, just hush, brother. I love you. I love you."

His punches ceased and he desperately tried to find support, something to clutch to, but the leather armour I was wearing hindered him. I took his hands and led them around my waist. And he clutched to _me_ , clung to me, sobbing helplessly into my neck. I rubbed his back and he hissed. I realized I had hurt him and reverted to stroking the back of his hair, hushing him, and murmuring soothing nonsense into his ear. I kissed his forehead even as his face remained buried into my neck.

"You're alright. Alright now. I'm here. Right here. I love you."

With each sob, his breathing grew laboured. He was shaking as he wept. I didn't know how to help him, _heal_ him. "Peter, Peter, _Peter_. It's alright. I love you. I love you. Just hush."

But he only burst into fresh tears, crushing my ribs as he pulled me against him, slumping against me. He wept and his tears never stopped, wetting my shoulder. With all my will, I suppressed my own tears, cradling his neck with one hand, wiping his unending tears with the other. He pulled me closer and I let him, kissing his temple, and wiping his eyes again. I let him cry his griefs and continued whispering words of assurance, of comfort into his ear, repeating his name as if to remind him who he was. Seldom had I seen Peter _this_ broken. The first time, after the victory of Beruna. He had cried then, too, with an equal hollowness, the same degree of fear and terror, for my life. Then, the second time when Lucy had caught the Black Fever three years into our reign. I had held him then too, but he'd had _some_ sense to himself, some point for his tears to stop and grief to subside. Now, now my brother felt like a feeble child in my arms, crying because he _knew_ he could not be fixed, for an agony kindled so deeply into his heart that it could not be pulled out, for a torture that he had borne but had not the strength to endure. Oh, Aslan, what had she done to him?

"Peter?" I finally dared to ask when he was shaking with only an occasional sob, though his tears were still as tortured. "Peter, what happened?"

"E—Ed. Eddie," he sobbed, hiding the side of his face into my chest, crying more harshly. "Why couldn't—why didn't you come earlier!"

"I wanted to. Oh, Aslan, I should have—should have." I closed my eyes. "Peter, what did she do?"

"I don't know, I don't know. Aslan, I don't know!"

And through his voice, I knew. And without knowing it, I was crying too. "It's okay. I love you. We all love you."

"But I'm filthy!" he cried, though he didn't let me go. "Corrupted!"

"Do you love Aslan, Peter?"

"Y—yes."

I pulled back, cradling his face in my hands. I kissed his forehead again. "Then you're His King and Son. Let that be enough."

He pulled me in again, hugging me more tightly than I thought he ever had. "Oh, Ed, she—she—"

"Hush. Hush, now."

"Cold, stone-like, her touch was stone-like. And I—" he broke off, and his breathing became erratic. I rubbed his back and he hissed again. "I—I—Oh, Eddie, I still wanted it! I wanted it. I revelled in it! How can I be pure?"

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I drew back and took his hands in mine. "Let us pray then, Peter. Let us pray that the Lion wash away our sins." He sniffed. I closed my eyes. "Great Lion, our Lord, see us in our grief and shame. See your children in their bleakest times, see the sins we've committed, see the dark within us. And let your ever-golden light replace it. Wash away our sins and the guilt we bear for the evil we have done in our life, for the evil pleasures we yearned, for the folly deeds we might have committed in our foolishness. Wash away the defilement. Wash away my brother's marred skin. Give him purpose again. Give him purity again. Give him faith again. Aslan, please, hear our pleas and prayers. See my brother's tears and wipe them. Heal his wounds. And heal his soul. Please, our Lord, give him peace again."

After a long sobbing breath, Peter wiped my eyes, and said, "Ed." I smiled. "Thank you. Oh, my brother, my dear, _dear_ brother, thank you. How can you seem to fix me even now?"

"Because I love you, brother. _I love you_." I smiled at him again. "Now, we must go. Can you get up?"

"Y—yes, I think so," he replied and kicked away the blankets before he cautiously stood on his feet, swaying.

"Peter?"

"I'm fine. Just dizzy from crying so much," he said with wry humour. And my heart burst with joy. He swayed again and I dashed to his side to support him.

"So, not just dizzy?"

"No," he said, smiling grimly.

I slowly led him towards the door with his left arm around my shoulders. Suddenly, he stopped. "Susan and Lucy?"

I smiled. "Susan is here with Tvar, he's the Griffin. And Lu . . . Oh, I'll tell you later. We have to hurry!"

"Wait," he said urgently. And we were brought to a halt again. "We can't tell them. _Ever_."

I nodded almost instantaneously. "I know," I said and we had reached a silent understanding and agreement, reading each other's eyes effortlessly.

And I opened the door.

* * *

To greet us, Volos and Tamur were present with their heads bowed and hands clasped back, as if in humble surrender. They were very conscious about the gravity of the situation. I looked at Peter. He didn't say anything, nor did he nod.

He simply rested his hands on both the boys' shoulders and they relaxed visibly. Then, both backed away. And Peter sat on a narrow bench set parallel to the wall. He pulled out boots from under it, wore them, and then opened a previously invisible door (camouflaged by painting it in the similar colours of the wall). He pulled out a tunic (it was stupendous) and wore it over his shirt. Then he stomped his feet and pulled open another door, from where he retrieved a sword, chosen from many other options hanging in the large cabinet.

I watched the whole ordeal silently and then said, "How did you—"

Peter raised his head from the light sword he was examining. "I've gotten used to the castle," he said ruefully.

"Pete—"

But he held up a hand. "It's fine." He turned to the boys who stood in one corner with their hands still clasped back. "Volos, Tamur, you've been dismissed. Go back to your rooms. Now."

And they shuffled out, but not without shooting anxious glances in my brother's direction first. I looked at him. "You're sure they won't spill it?"

"I trust them," Peter replied solemnly. "Now come," he said, opening the white door. He poked his head through the narrow opening to search the corridor and came back in satisfied. He nodded and we both strode out quietly, Peter closing the door promptly behind us with a gentle pull. "Where is Susan?" he asked.

"On the floor above this one. Let's go."

"No," said Peter. "There is something we need to do first."

"What?" I asked.

Only to be interrupted by a sudden shout of, "I thought she'd killed you!"

Peter closed his eyes and sighed at the voice. I turned right to see a handsome young man with raven hair and onyx eyes trotting towards us. He was armed with a sword that hung securely at his hip. And I could see in the glint of his eyes that he also had a hidden dagger in one of his boots. His splendidly white teeth gleamed as he smiled, finally reaching us. He didn't seem to know me. Peter smiled at him, not sincerely. And he eyed me.

"Who's this?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow, skeptical.

"New guard," Peter replied almost immediately and I glanced at him. He didn't look at me. "Osgar assigned him to me this morn."

The man gave a crooked grin. "You mean 'assigned _you_ to _him_ '."

Peter only rolled his eyes. "Did you want something, Srif?"

"Oh, nothing. I was only wondering if you enjoyed your wedding night."

I had to bow my head in order to avoid giving the man a murderous glare I was withholding since the very point of his arrival. Peter quickly nudged my foot with his, and I calmed. Peter didn't reply to his comment and stood with his eyes fixed on Srif, silently questioning him if there was more to his queries. Srif laughed but then his eyes narrowed.

"Is that a sword?"

Peter cursed very silently under his breath and let a wary hand rest on the pommel of his sword. "Uh, well, isn't a man allowed to protect himself from potential dangers in Galma? Especially a king."

I released a short breath, unimpressed by Peter's excuse, wishing he'd given me a chance to elude Srif. Srif, however, was more amused than concerned to see their prisoner armed. "I suppose you see it then? How your home has abandoned you?"

Peter's smirk was barely concealed. "I do, in fact," he lied without hesitation, making me subtly step on his foot. He didn't shriek.

"And you see her for who she is? I saw you talking to Felana last night. You should listen to her, you know. Selene isn't all she seems to be," Srif said with the first hint of grimness I had sensed in his cheerful voice.

"I know," Peter replied promptly, "she's good. And I'm coming to…accept her, Srif. She sees it, too. So does the King Tromin," and he gave his sword a quick glance. I smiled. _Subtly done, brother_ , I thought.

"I see," Srif said. Then he looked at me, and said thoughtfully, "Are you a long lost bastard brother of mine?"

I resisted the urge to knock him to the floor right then. Peter grabbed my arm and I kept my head bowed. "What is wrong with you?" he hissed at Srif.

Srif shrugged. "He does look a lot like me." Then he reached over to gently punch Peter in the arm. Peter gave him a scowl. "And cheer up. It was only a joke."

Slowly, he began in the opposite direction of his approach. He turned, "Well, I suppose you'll be living longer than another week now. So, it's a good thing I like you. I will see you around then, brother dear?" He winked. I was seething. Peter, however, gave him a sincere smile, and Srif disappeared around the turn.

I released a long breath. "Who _was_ that?" I asked as we began in Srif's direction.

"Srif," Peter replied. "He's the Duke Chancellor's son. Selene's cousin."

"Well, he certainly thought he was funny."

Peter chuckled. "He is."

I just gaped, hurt. But burst out laughing as well. As we took a left turn, I said, "Peter, where are we going?"

"To the dungeons."

* * *

_I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him._

Yes, I was referring to my brother. My brother who had very unceremoniously and brutally pushed me into a room before closing the door with a _clamp!_ I landed harshly with all my weight forced on my elbow. There was an almost inaudible _crack_ and it was still twinging.

"You weren't trying to escape again, were you?" asked the same voice, faintly reaching me through the barrier of the white door.

"No," answered my brother, "of course not, Aviso."

He had dragged me through the ever-stretching corridors, through halls all bigger than the Great Hall, and to floors lower and lower, and inevitably away from our sister who was waiting for us, trusting me to bring Peter back. I had, of course, expressed my numerous concerns about this very abrupt and dangerous change of plans. Peter hadn't bothered to even reassure me. He seemed to think his very noble cause would be enough to convince me. He wished to save an Archen slave, whom he clearly admired. Razia. I had said the name didn't sound Archen. He'd just glared at me. And after that, I, ever-trustful of my brother, had decided to follow him without hesitation.

And then, after one more seemingly calculated turn, a soft, padding set of footfalls echoed in the corridor adjacent to the one we were travelling in. And quickly, Peter, not wanting to take the risk, opened the closest door with one brisk motion, and _threw_ me inside, not realising that conveying the same to me, and then letting me, in a much more dignified manner, rush inside, would have just as efficient. Yes, possibly slower, but still. I huffed and my ears perked up as the awkward conversation between Peter and _Aviso_ continued.

"You would accept Tromin as your king, you say?" the voice asked, sounding old and weary, but, at the same time, bold and daring enough to lead a battalion in the next second.

"If he lets me live," replied Peter's voice promptly, though his voice was faded. I, wanting to listen more keenly, leant against the door, resting the side of my head against its coarse surface with my ear pressed against it.

"And where are your guards? Osgar sent Gerulf and Marc."

"Perhaps too busy trying to tell left from right. The guards enjoyed themselves too last night, Aviso."

"Ah, I see," replied the other voice. "And who did you just shove inside?"

I closed my eyes. _Aslan, Aslan, please._

"You two shouldn't be—"

"—be eavesdropping."

I whipped around. _No._

The first voice had incited anger for I had recognized the charming sound. One of Peter's kidnappers. Kaios, was his name? He'd been addressing my brother and Aviso. And I'd thought that, at last, we were doomed. But I clung to a small hope that perhaps the Lion could maneuver us out of this tangled situation as well. But alas, before I could hear him, a second voice whispered to me, and all hope ebbed away instantly. For _she_ was there, standing with her dagger gleaming proudly in her malignant hand, its deadly sharp edges glinting ominously at me. She tossed it into the air and then caught it expertly, ambling towards me as if she and I were out picnicking. I gripped Alvera's pommel, inching back, calculating my odds, trying to understand that smile of hers, that victorious smile.

"My dear husband," she said, smiling, as if enjoying the reaction she got out of me, "and your brother is a wonderful man, do you not agree?" I inched further back and my back touched the wall. I grasped Vera's hilt.

"I love him," she said. I didn't believe the monster. "And _you_ won't take him from me."

I brandished my sword and ducked simultaneously as she slashed the dagger through the air above my head. I swung my blade at her legs and she, surprisingly, jumped, her movement swift even with the yellow gown that must hinder her movement. And then she slashed her dagger violently at me. I skittered back each time, avoiding the tip of the blade by an inch. She managed a small gash at my collarbone in the end, panting from over-exertion. Then, as I tried to muster up the will to fight and, inevitably, hurt the fragile-looking though _evil_ woman in front of me, she _kicked_ me. My ribs ached when I hit the wall, but I had not lost the grip on my sword. I groaned once and then swung out of the way when she darted forward with the dagger pointed towards me. She propelled forward and I, making use of the small advantage I had, struck her skull with the hilt of my sword, hoping and praying it would disable her. She fell to her knees and then promptly rose, more angered than before.

I sighed and sheathed my sword. Her eyes followed the movement and then she looked up at me, befuddled.

I pulled out the first of the five daggers I had on my person. "If we're going to fight. Let it be fair."

Her brows went up but she smiled that very false and triumphant smile.

"Fool," she hissed.

And I ducked below her first slash.

* * *

Underestimated, was the only word I could think of, the gap of my eyelids reduced to mere slits, head bowed forward for I could not hold it up.

She dug the blade into my stomach with one hand and forced my head up with the other. "You thought because I am a woman, I'm no match for you. It's typical, really. Even my own brothers believed so."

"Why—" I licked my lips, struggling to keep my eyes open. My head twinged again, the blood now seeping into my collar. "Why don't you do it already?"

The blade was pressed further into my flesh and she twisted it in the air, the fabric of my shirt twisted with it. She laughed, glancing down the at my torso. "I can't believe it. You're even thinner than your brother."

She was tormenting me, and enjoying it, immensely. I let my eyes close. And then, the pressure of the blade was gone. And I felt her hand caress my cheek as if I was a child and she my mother. She kissed my forehead as I flickered my eyes open. "Wh—what?"

"You should talk with Peter."

"But—"

"What _exactly_ did he tell you?" she asked, pushing my head to one side to examine the cut on my temple. I hissed when she gingerly touched it. She pulled out a handkerchief and began dabbing the wound with it. "What did he tell you?" she repeated, continuing to clean the blood.

"He said—said that you—you—"

I stopped breathing.

_"I don't know."_

_"I still wanted it."_

_"I'm filthy! Corrupted!"_

_"She's good."_

I _didn't_ know. Because I'd misunderstood. Because for the first time in my life, I couldn't understand him, because I was too busy trying to weave my dreams, my horrendous nightmares into the reality, unwilling to accept anything else, worse or better.

She cradled my neck and waved a hand in front of me as I tried to gather my thoughts. "Are you alright?"

My vision sharpened once more and I saw her, suddenly _not_ evil, not cruel, not horrible, but…just a beautiful, _normal_ woman, who was, indeed, in love. "You didn't do—you _didn't_."

"I couldn't," she said, pulling me to my feet, grimacing at the cut on her hand. "No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't do that to him. So, I untied him, and we talked."

"I don't understand."

"You will. Soon. But first," she said, "we need to kill my father."

.

.

And just as she said the words, her eyes suddenly rolled back, and she fell backwards, like a limp statue that had been pushed down a ledge. I thought I shrieked her name as I leaped to catch her. Gently, I lowered her cold body to the marble floor, brushing away her hair from her face, tapping her cheek. She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Hey. Hey. Selene?"

But her eyes closed once more and her head dropped onto my arm. I looked at the door and had opened my mouth to call my brother's name.

"Don't."

And I turned to my right. It was a dark-haired woman, with the ends of her hair trimmed delicately, her eyes gray and burning with a dark emotion, lit like a leopard's. "Who are you?"

"The one to, _finally_ ," she said, walking around in an arc, "rid the world of _her_."

I looked down at the unconscious Selene in my arms, her breathing was shallow and shallowing further, her skin was bluing. "You poisoned her," I said without looking up.

"Someone had to." She shrugged, walking towards us with her hands clasped in front of her. Then she knelt before me, gazing down at the dying woman with a pitiful look. She looked up at me. "I wish you hadn't come here." I blinked. "I'm sorry."

A short, sharp gasp. Blinding, white, hot surge of pain. The blood bubbling and trickling instantaneously.

The sound of metal leaving flesh.

I struggled not to scream, gasping erratically instead.

"I _am_ sorry."

Then I watched her stab Selene in the stomach too. She didn't move, not so much as a twitch. I tried to hold on to her when she pulled her away. She dragged her all the way across the room, leaving a wide and continuous trail of blood. Pain burned through the wound and I clutched to my stomach, pressing my hands onto the wound to reduce the blood-flow, even as my whole body was slowly shutting down in the sheer pain. Gasping, I let my head rest against the wall, screwing my eyes shut. I raised my head again to look at Selene, sprawled on the ground, back against the wall, head limping on her shoulder. Crimson had pooled around her. And I doubted she was alive.

The gray-eyed woman was gone, probably satisfied that she'd be above any suspicion. After all, it was clear the vindictive King of Narnia and the Princess had killed each other.

I, unable to concentrate my vision for too long, let my head drop back again, gasping more desperately now.

Peter. Where was Peter?

And just then, his voice broke through the silence, faint from the other side of the door, "Ed, quick, Kaios has got Aviso handled, we have to—"

He opened the door and stopped dead, words lost in the sudden, unbreakable silence, the hand around the knob shaking with shock, whole body trembling, and his face a twisted mix of disbelief and horror.

He was looking at Selene.

.

.


	26. Chapter 26

**Peter**

.

.

She was dead.

And her corpse was in front of me.

I wished I could feel something, any emotion, just a slight jabbing pain in my chest, but the numbness was greater, and I fell to my knees before her. This feeling, this dread I could not explain. And I knew that the peace I wished for, like the times I had watched the stars align in the sky of the spreading night, the times I had wined alone in the chambers alit by the crackling fire, when the slow wintry breeze had just fanned my cheek and taken the last drop of sweat with it. This peace, I knew, I could achieve no longer, the growing ache in my heart was a proof. Had I really lost something that salient and critically important? Was the peace and comfort I had felt last night something I wished I could feel again? Was _my wife_ really the woman I had seen, loose and free, in the privacy of the four walls wrapped around us? Was she, alas, not evil, or had just planned a more thorough torture for me, or was she stronger than me in resisting that temptation? I could not answer these questions, I did not wish to, feeling I would find an obvious answer that would cut through me like a knife. I had known pain, known fear, known the loss of the dearest of my friends. And this seemingly trivial death seemed to evoke the same sorrow in me. Why?

A hand grabbed my own and I watched, disbelieving, as her slender fingers rubbed along mine, upto my wrist, and then my arm. I watched only her hand, slowly tracing along my arm, reaching up, to my neck. She stroked my cheek, wiped away a stray tear I did not remember shedding, and pulled me down. _I_ kissed _her_. For the first time, it didn't feel wrong or foreign. It was warm and gentle and comforting. I squeezed her hand as we kissed, and even as the coppery blood raised in her mouth, I did not pull back. Then my hands were in her hair, palms cupping her cheeks, lips unwilling to leave her tender ones. But she pulled back and pushed me away with her weak arms, cradling my face with feeble hands.

Her voice sounded content, satisfied.

"I love you," she said with surprising clarity, "and I hope you can forgive me one day." I shed another tear and she wiped it away too. "I thought I loved you for I saw him in you. But not last night. Last night," —she coughed— "last night, I loved you and only you. A letter," she said with another cough, "a letter under your pillow. Please—please read it."

I nodded, swallowing hard, crying inwardly as she wiped another tear.

"Then," she said with a smile, "you and I have been freed." Her smile widened. "Thank you."

Her hands fell from my face and she went utterly limp, so suddenly I did not comprehend it at first. With quivering hands, I pressed my hand over her mouth. No gentle zephyr blessedly stroked my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to poise myself. My heart was thumping against my ribs, breaking in the knowledge that she was dead. I wished I could convince myself that I didn't care. Wished I could just _go back_ to the web of lies that had surrounded me only two days ago. Oh, Aslan, how could one death, one death hurt so much? Why, even now that my bonds had been broken, could I only think that I was a widower and not a free man with no obligation to a murderous woman? Why, even now that the killer of so many was lying dead at my feet, could I feel only that hollowing sorrow? Why was this woman suddenly so important? Why was I feeling my heart shatter at the mere sight of her horribly still and cold body? Why, oh, _why_ , could I not hate her anymore!

"Peter."

Everything suddenly halted and the grief was instantly replaced by blinding terror.

I had already accepted her death, knew how to keep the remorse and mourning at bay, knew how to _go on_. But that voice, _that voice_ , if that voice could never be heard anymore, if the bearer of that voice was lost to me, if his laughter was to remain unheard forever, I knew I would descend into _madness_. And yet, that one word was filled with pain and the struggle he had endured to just utter it. That one name.

My name.

I whirled around and staggered to my feet, only to be pushed down by the burdening sorrow and the absolute terror I could feel grow and curl like black vines around my heart. So, I crawled to him, ignoring the spreading pool of crimson in which he lay prone and helpless. When I reached him, my hand was already pressing on his, while the other stroked his cheek as he groaned and gasped.

"Shh," I whispered, "how—how bad?" I asked, knowing he was coherent enough to answer.

"Bad," he replied wryly, chuckling very softly. Then he gulped. "Is she…?"

"Yes," I said, repressing crude tears, "but it doesn't matter," and I wiped his eyes when he wept. "It's alright. It is. Come on." I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"No, wait," he said urgently, "Alvera."

I nodded and looked around for his sword. She was lying beside his leather armour, still gleaming proudly. I quickly crawled to her and picked her, before standing up and running to my brother once more. I replaced my own sword with Alvera in the sheath and lifted Edmund to his feet, flinching internally at his feeble protests. With his right arm around my shoulders, I led him forward, steadying him when he stumbled, and anchoring him when the pain coursed through his body. The door was still open and I maneuvered myself and Edmund through the opening. Edmund coughed and racked and I urged him to keep his hand pressed on the wound. But he'd never moved it, he told me, coughing, and this time red splashed out.

"Hold on. Hold on," I said desperately, striving forward, "you can't leave. You can't."

"St—st'p wh'ning, you idiot."

And I allowed myself a laugh. "You'll have to lead me once we get to my rooms, so stay awake, alright?"

"Y's."

"Edmund?"

"Ye'h?"

"I love you. More than anything."

He chuckled and I bumped into an armoured chest, causing me stumbled back and lose my grip on my brother. He fell down with a thud and _screamed_. My heart hammered.

"Ed!"

But strong hands kept me in my place, shaking me harshly. "Peter. Peter. Look at me."

I had to force my eyes to split from Edmund lying on his chest with his eyes closed. "Kaios," I breathed with a threatening growl, "let me go or I swear I will—"

"It's Osgar," he said, suddenly dropping beside my brother. He swept him up in his arms, letting his head drop onto his shoulder. His eyes were still closed. I looked up from his pale face to Kaios's. He beckoned me to follow him with a subtle inclination of his head. As we walked, I kept my eyes only on my brother, brushing back the dishevelled black mop of his hair occasionally. Sometime later during our long trek, Kaios spoke (he was taking us to the corridors which he deemed secure and safer, leading us to the higher floors, where _Susan_ was; my heart missed a beat).

"They know you've escaped. There are guards _everywhere_. Aviso managed to convince them you are in the northern wing, but Osgar sent men here as well."

"Wait," I said, finally looking up from Edmund, "Aviso?"

"Yes. I, Aviso, Felana, Srif, and Sera, and Kyra, too. We're with you."

"And that means—"

"—against Tromin, yes. We want Selene to be Queen."

I froze where I was, shutting my eyes tightly. "Kaios—"

"Peter, your brother needs a healer," he interrupted, " _now_."

I ran to catch up with them again, trying to wrench my eyes away from the thick streak of red drops on the floor. Gingerly, I took my brother from him, arranging him in my arms so he'd be more comfortable. And I knelt on the ground, reassured by the ragged but warm breaths fuming against my neck. Steeling myself, I rolled back his shirt. The stab was deep, but had missed any organs, it seemed. The attacker had clearly not been experienced. But the blood, which was now oozing out instead of spilling rapidly, would not stop leaking. Not until it was stitched or healed with Lucy's cordial. I tapped his cheek gently, whispering his name into his ear.

"Wake up. Come on, wake up, Ed."

He didn't open his eyes. "Peter."

I burst into raw and naked laughs, kissing his forehead. "Can you talk?"

He still didn't open his eyes, but let out a soft and silent chuckle. "I j'st did."

"Where is—"

"Ma—m'rked the room," he murmured, "My—my sixth dagger."

"Alright. Alright, Ed. Thank you," I said. "You can sleep now."

He smiled and went silent. I scooped him up again, standing on my feet with little struggle. Turning to Kaios's bemused face, I said, grimly, "I'll come back. You have to go to Selene's room."

"But why?"

I held onto Edmund a little more tightly and said with a thick voice, quelling tears once more, "I'm sorry."

He only blinked at first, and then, finally taking it in, he stopped breathing, eyes clouded with emotions I did not want to discern. I only bowed my head.

And he made a dash to Selene.

* * *

I had to set Edmund down to open the intricately forged lock with the key I had found hidden in the nearly invisible tear in his boot's sole. And when it clicked, I picked him again.

And just as I went to open it, the handles flung away from my reach as the door opened, leaving me to stumble forward.

"Edmund! Please tell me Peter is—"

Tears welled up. Heartbeats stopped. And breaths hitched to a halt.

"Peter!" my sister exclaimed elatedly, beginning towards me.

But I stopped her with a look, glancing down at my brother, he was as white as snow. So near to death that I could not think anymore. Susan seemed confused at first, as if I wasn't holding our brother. Then she looked down at the thin figure in my arms, her eyes lingering on the pallor of his face. And then she found the crimson patch on his shirt. Her muffled cries broke my heart.

"No, no, no, no!" she sobbed, as I walked numbly past her, towards the Griffin Tvar.

He beat his wings gently as he rose from the ground. I placed my brother gently on his back. I had to hold him, so he wouldn't fall. "Susan. Come." My voice was thick and devoid of any emotion, weary under the effort to repress my overwhelming fear.

I watched my sister as she wiped her eyes with a hard look shot at me. Then she walked slowly towards us, as if trying to support herself. And then she climbed the Griffin, taking Edmund briskly from me, letting our brother curl against her. She rested her forehead on his, weeping as I saw, helpless, the blood now stain Tvar's golden hair and Susan's leather armour. A sniffle. "How bad?" she asked brokenly.

"You'll get to Lucy in time," I assured her, rubbing Tvar's man, putting my trust in him. He bowed his head humbly.

Susan raised her head at the words. "You mean 'we'."

"No."

"Peter!" she growled furiously, eyes glinting with enough anger to make even me flinch. "Edmund could _die_ in effort to get you out! And you—"

"I can't."

"Peter!" she hollered, face fuming with sheer _rage_ now. _"_ You impulsive , _impetuous,_ imprudent _, heedless—"_

"Su." I chuckled.

" _What?_ " she said, incredulous that I interrupted her scolding.

But I only propped up on my toes and pulled her into a rib-bruising hug, taking Edmund between us. Tvar wriggled and sat down so the position was more convenient. I tucked back her hair and she grimaced to see my bloodied fingers. But smiled when I tenderly kissed her forehead. I bent down and cupped my brother's whiting face, leaving light-red prints of my fingers on his cheekbones. I kissed his forehead.

"You hold on," I commanded him.

I kissed his brows.

"You _must_ hold on."

I thought I saw just the slyest twitch of his lips. Sneaky little devil. I pulled back and then promptly hugged Susan again. She was surprised but returned the embrace with an equal ferocity.

"Peter?"

She must have heard the smile in my voice. "Lucy's hug."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Well, I actually can't believe I got through writing this. I hated killing her.
> 
> Now, some things to be made clear:
> 
> This is **not** a romance. I mean, it is but it really isn't. I felt it necessary that Selene gets a fair ending. And I realised it wouldn't be fair without Peter actually showing her some sort of affection. Affection but not quite the true love. Now, I've left his true feelings quite ambiguous if you read the first part right. I leave it up to you to decide whether you wish to pair them or not. Things will get clearer soon. So, bear with me.
> 
> And I really did hate to kill her. However, the plot forced me to do it. She evolved so much from the first time I had pictured her after writing 'Younger' - a rather unintelligent swooning princess who doesn't really love the HIgh King, to the Selene I made her when I begin plotting this story - an evil, murderous, bloodthirsty, psychotic woman with a powerful personality and enigma, to the Selene she became when I explored her life and Glevellunium, a soft person forced into a hard shell that is fed with blood.
> 
> She has left quite an impression on me and I hope that's true for you too.
> 
> But do keep in mind, this story isn't ended yet. And hopefully, she will come back.
> 
> Wow. I actually had to wipe a tear.
> 
> And if you're interested in seeing the initial version of the previous two chapters combined that I had before I wrote the first chapter, I will be posting it on [Livejournal](pacifia.dreamwidth.org>Dreamwidth</a>%20and%20<a%20herf=) today, so visit my bio for links. I wrote it because I really wasn't sure how to address these adult themes and incorporate them into my writing which hasn't really featured that before. I was afraid of the reaction I was going to get. And I shared it with the lovely Cherry2506 who encouraged to go with the plot I had in mind. But of course, it was changed drastically as I discovered and rediscovered Selene. Though some of the dialogue you may recognise.


	27. Chapter 27

**Peter**

.

.

The scene before me jabbed the sharpest of knives into my chest.

"Please, please, please, _please_."

Gold and dark-honey mixed to make black of the cloud of the grief and the sad and grey despair and utter dejection. He kept her close to himself, protective and loving arms enveloping her, cradling her as if she was a small babe. His puffy and rheumy eyes closed to let another tear join its predecessor on her cheek. And they both slid from the blanched skin as she rocked back and forth with him, still pressed against his chest.

"Please. Please ** _._** _Please!_ I have to tell you. I have to _tell_ you."

Her ravelled hair slid past his hands as he pressed her head against his shoulder. The smooth and glossy strands could not be grasped no matter how much he should toil. And he could not grab her either, even as she floated just out of reach, like a phantasm you could not touch even if the dark cloud hovers above you. No amount of love could pull her back, no amount of will could breathe life into the bluing corpse, and no amount of sorrow could melt Death's heart.

It was to be.

It was decided.

I had accepted it, burying the despair deep into a dusty chest in my heart I never intended to open. But he was past sorrow. He was past acceptance.

He—simply—refused to believe it.

"I don't care if you don't love me. I don't. I don't! Please, just please, _please._ Lion, please!"

To hear Aslan's name come out his mouth with such faith and such agony showing in the single word twisted my heart. It was the first time he'd said His name, or at least, the first time I'd heard him say it. He was calling to Him in his need. How many times had I _begged_ Him too, how many times had I prayed to Him, and how many times had He answered? How many times had even Death bowed in shame in His glorious golden shine? Could He now, too, help just _one_ more soul, heal and mend _just one more_ broken heart? Would He come?

Oh, would you come, Aslan!

"Please _come back_. I _just_ have to _tell_ you. Please, _please_."

 _I just have to tell you_ , he kept saying, and the words were acuter and more excruciating than the agonised wail of His name. He bore an undying love in his heart, from the very beginning of their combined adventure, their conjugated destinies, and intertwined love they both held for the one that was the very cause of this thrilling escapade and the terrible tragedy it brought along with it. Oh, only if the heart hadn't deceived so many souls at once. Only if the brother on the side had not been closed. Only if he'd told her. Would I have been spared the torture and the abomination and the cursed caring emotion in my heart that I had for the previously monstrous woman? Would then, grief and sorrow had been evaded? Would then my kingdom had not suffered the tedious and weary and despairing task of coming after me but only to be rejected by their king? Would then my brother had not suffered the burning agony of another of the wounds that he bore for _me_? Would then the twined pair had not been a victim of the death but merriment would echo out of their hearts as he swung her up by her waist? Would then her blue and lost lips be pink and caress his as he'd laugh?

Oh, Aslan, had I wronged You! Had I, in taking her in her last moments, wronged a love that could never be known? Had I cheated? Was I too dissolved in my own selfish desires that I was heedless of the love much stronger than the small seed of affection that had grown from my own hatred and ignorance? Did _he_ deserve her love and her kiss more than me? Had she chosen the wrong king, the wrong man, someone that still could not understand the cursed and victim heart but could still see the evil just black against the tender red?

" _Please._ Oh, Aslan, _please._ "

My heart sliced.

And I finally unwound my seemingly frozen fingers from the round knob and took quivering steps forward, _tap-tap_ said the boots to the floor. I knelt a distance away from her blue corpse and the crimson that seemed to soak them both now, watching heartbrokenly as he still held her and swayed back and forth in the pool of red, crushing the still body against his broad chest.

"Kaios." The name came out dry and miserably low. "Kaios, there isn't time." I felt cruel.

He looked up from her closed eyes and parted lips, and I flinched at the indescribable amount of despair dripping from the tears and face that seemed far too old and weary for an age as young as his. I thought he'd reply, with perhaps a rebuff, or a sharp remark, but he merely buried his face in her hair, whispering pleadings again.

"Kaios!" I said suddenly, shaking his shoulder roughly. "Osgar's men could be here any second. We _have to move_!"

He shook with a racking sob, struggling to breathe. "Did she—did she say anything—about me?"

My lips froze. Words died on my tongue. But I managed to stammer out, "She—uh, yes, she did. She said—" I smiled. "She said that she wished you were there when she died."

It was as close to the truth and the lie as I could get. I had no doubt she'd cherish his presence, even if she hadn't the mind to say it then. When he remained unmoving, I asked cautiously, "Kaios?"

He lifted her up and her head fell back from his arm, honeyed hair falling continuously like a gold waterfall, waving slightly as he walked to her bed. He ducked under the low canopy that looked freshly installed and set her down. Instantly the white bedding turned red. Then he gently kissed her forehead and drew the curtains together. Her sight left us and the despair suddenly didn't feel too heavy. Sunlight suddenly streamed in through the narrow windows and we realised the cloudy weather had dissipated. Kaios turned to face me and for the first time seemed to actually notice me. He looked down at my empty and bloody hands and raised his head to look at me again.

"Where is your brother?"

"Safe," I said, knowing my siblings had probably reached Lucy by now, "but I infer, _very_ unhappy with me."

"How do you know he's not dead?" he asked me, blinking.

"He's—I just know," I said.

"You know?"

" _I know_ ," I snapped, and he quieted.

And after a moment, he said meekly, "Did he—was he the one that—" He looked back at the curtained bed, watching keenly the blurred and still figure of her body. Another tear escaped his eye.

"No!" I exclaimed, suddenly realising what he had meant. "He wouldn't. He didn't. He didn't want her dead. I heard it in his voice."

"Then who?" he asked me, turning back.

"I don't know, I don't know." I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before opening them again. "Kaios, you have to take me to the dungeons. Please."

"Why?"

"Razia."

He shook his head, laughing and crying at the same time. "You are such an imprudent fool."

I shrugged, glad to see him laugh for once. He smiled.

"Then let's go."

* * *

The dungeons were blacker than the darkest shadows. We had picked our way through the unused narrow corridors that passed by the servant chambers in the lower parts of the castle. We descended crooked stairs with no railings, with only a makeshift torch as our only server of light. The light cast giant flickering shadows of our moving figures on the stone walls that seemed to move along with us. I was walking behind Kaios, a wary hand placed firmly on the pommel of my brother's sword, and at his thought my grip tightened on the round, lion-head orb, mind praying unconsciously for his safety and health. Then, the stairs abruptly took a sharp turn to the left, leaving me to clumsily ward off a blow from the wall just in the nick of time. The sole of my boot was slippery and I almost toppled over the side of the stairs. But Kaios, casually, pulled me back with a quick pull at the hem of my tunic. Then, he was trotting down the stairs again, unbothered that I had almost fallen to a gruesome death. I sighed and jogged after him, heedful of any sudden turns in our crooked path.

After almost ten minutes into our descent, the stairs began curling, becoming steeper and steeper, and the shadows darker and ever-darker. It was maddening how quick the flame flickered and swayed when there was no wind blowing in the suffocating chamber. Kaios hadn't looked back at me since my dreadful slip. I was eager to make some conversation to divert my senses from the chills shooting up between my shoulder blades. But he was quite obviously striving hard to keep the despair from overwhelming him. I wasn't nearly struggling as much, but I wondered what would happen if I let the emotions bustle out from the corner of my mind where I had hidden them. I shook myself and we ventured on.

Until the light Left us.

I actually squeaked. And hearing Kaios's scoff and imagining his eye-roll, I cleared my throat, and said, "What happened?"

"I blew it off."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to die. Not yet."

And we began to descend further. Presently, the stairs had ended and we were squinting in the dark to make out the stretched corridor lying in front of us. It was narrow and I could just see the bars of the cells that lined the stone walls. The bricks were rectangular and the length of my arm. The surface was coarse, I realised, as I ran my hand along the walls as I followed Kaios through the darkness. With my eyes adjusting better to the extreme lack of light, I could also see the brackets in the wall, and the lanterns hanging in them. Their flames had died long ago and they were cold. Deliberately, I touched the ashes and rubbed my fingers together.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped at his voice. "Nothing," I said, quickly hiding my soot-covered hand behind my back (even though he couldn't see me).

He let out a huff and grabbed my wrist, yanking me forwards. I bumped my head into one of the brackets and groaned painfully. Kaios must not have heard me (or had ignored me) for he continued on, still brutally pulling me forwards. My legs ached and I was certain I was going to collapse in the next second. My head was swirling.

But the sudden growls woke me with a start and I realised Kaios was practically dragging me through the corridor. The growls came again, this time accompanied by hisses. And was that a distinct word of plea I heard? The voices covered us from everywhere and I sank down, shoulders slumping.

"Wha—"

Kaios pulled me close by the arm. "Most of them have gone mad," he whispered.

I, wisely, decided not to query further. I inched even closer to him when the metallic bars of the cells shook with harsh force and long fingers wrapped around them were just visible under the dim shine of candles peeking out from the cells. I caught some faces, all wrinkled and scarred and _mad_. Most eyes were gleaming with insanity, just as Kaios had said, but the others—just a few—were really pleading, with a small glint of hope in the corner of their eyes. I looked at them and tried to linger to speak a few words of consolation but Kaios would start dragging me forward every time. I just sighed and decided not to provoke him with an argument.

But the voices seemed to be humming in my head. I tried to shake the feeling off and moved on.

No cells were lit with candles now and the darkness became utter. But Kaios's soft footfalls continued to guide me, even as the padding sound echoed off the silent walls, the prisoners suspiciously and chillingly silent now. The stones grated against my boots as I strode forward and I stopped brush them the dust off, rubbing them on the walls. I squealed when a hand suddenly poked from between the bars and attempted to grab my ankle. The long nails slit the fabric of my socks and I jumped away, only to crash directly into the bars of the cell opposite of the previous one. And this time, two invisible hands grasped my tunic, almost tearing it as they tried to pull me in, and I pulled back. They shook me and the side of my face collided with the bars, causing me to groan. In the end, I had to kick away with one of my feet pressed against the bars. Thankfully, the hands did not get a hold on my ankle. I was panting with my hands on my knees, animalistic growls echoing in my ears, surrounding me from all sides. I got up, a hand on my brother's sword.

And, still gasping, I walked on.

Twenty seconds or so later, I realised, very suddenly, that there were no footfalls to guide me anymore. And that I was lost in _utter_ and complete darkness with mad and murderous people all around me.

I panicked.

And I began trotting forwards, hoping to catch up with Kaios, and praying there weren't any turns. But my prayers were not effective and I bumped directly into a wall, hitting my head for the third time. Flailing my hands around, I tried to find balance but fell in the end. Groaning, I got up again and turned right, my hands hanging in front of me to avoid any similar accidents. But there must have been another corridor for I continued in that direction for another thirty seconds. But there was still no sound (close or distant) of footsteps, only the horrible growls and hisses and the sound of skin rubbing against coarse metal. The air grew chilled and I hugged myself, coming to a stop.

What if I had made a wrong turn?

Should I yell for him? What if there were guards?

And then, a finger jabbed me in the arm, and I knew I had no other option. I sank to the floor and covered my ears.

"Kaios!" I screamed. "Kaios! _Kaios!_ KAIOS!"

 _"_ Shut _up_! _"_ answered a voice from above me.

And I realised a golden light was filtering through my eyelids. A blessed and seraphic glow that felt like the first hint of light to a blind man. I opened my eyes and uncovered my ears to look up at the flames flickering and lighting Kaios's unimpressed face. He sighed and lifted me to my feet by my arm. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, realising that the ungodly sounds were gone.

"Some High King he is."

That was a new voice. A familiar and feminine voice. I opened my eyes again, blinking in the newly found and profound light of the torch. "Felana?" I asked incredulously.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, _clearly_."

My eyes switched from her face to Kaios's and then back to her again. "What are you _doing_ here?"

They both ushered me forward, keeping me between them. Kaios kept kicking the cells and the growls that had come back subsided, the hands cowering back, but the blinking eyes now visible in the light made my spine chill. As we ventured on, the two did not acknowledge my presence at all, and I was left to listen to their whispered sentences.

"Fey, you don't know—"

"And _you_ don't know!"

A sigh. "Listen first." A long breath let out. "Selene is—"

"My uncle is _alive_!"

.

.

They both froze and I was hurled back by Kaios's grip still on my arm. I jerked away from him and then realising he was gaping (very wide), I suppressed laughs. Then he shook his head and blinked at the Princess—the High Princess—and said, " _What?_ "

I looked at Felana. She nodded twice. "He is. I found Raviar's journals last night. Uncle Amir, _King_ Amir is _alive_."

"Wha—Raviar kept _journals_?"

Her lips curled up into an insulting gape and her brows furrowed. "That's what you got from that?"

I laughed.

"Shut up," they both hissed viciously and I was instantly silent.

"Listen," Felana said impatiently, "whatever you two are doing here, I'm sure it can wait. You have to help me find my uncle."

"Fey—" Kaios tried.

"No, listen!" she said, raising her voice. "We can't kill Tromin. Not with Osgar as the captain of the Guard. He keeps fifteen men around him at all times!"

"Felana!"

"Please, Kaios, you have to. I remember my uncle. He is a kind man. And he loves Narnia and Aslan and _his people_. If we look together, I'm sure—"

"Fey."

"Please, I—"

"Selene is _dead_!"

Even the prisoners silenced. The air stilled and Felana froze. I ignored the stone that had just been dropped on my heart. She blinked at Kaios. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"No," she whispered, dropping to the floor. "No, please. No."

Kaios shoved the torch into my numb hands and I staggered back, watching helplessly as he knelt beside her, taking her into his arms. She hid from everything, crying bitterly into his shoulder. My heart broke _again_ and my tears fell into the flames, making it sizzle. I closed my eyes, trying to quell and ebb every emotion, all amount of sorrow I had kept at bay all this time, shoving it back where it had risen from. I opened my eyes. It worked but I still flinched when her hoarse voice whispered denials and tortured tears plopped on the stones. She shook her head against Kaios's shoulder and he stroked her raven hair, wrapping his arms around her more tightly.

"How? _Who_?"

"I don't know. _Yet_. But I will kill them, I swear. Tie them upside down from the castle walls."

I flinched again at the devotion with which he said the words. He pulled her a little closer when her cries subsided, now turning into occasional sobs. Then, without any more words, he aided her to her feet, still holding her close with one arm.

But she pulled back, wiping her eyes. She snatched the torch from my hands and began walking back in the direction we had come from.

"Fey?"

She didn't turn back. "I'm going to kill the king."

.

.

Neither of us even tried to question her intentions further. And we, utterly stricken with our feet firmly planted on the stone floor, watched her go in grace and determination. Neither of our minds realised until it was too late that she'd just taken our only source of light. The flickering flames and the flurry of her gown disappeared into the darkness of the next corridor. And absolute black consumed our vision. The air grew icy and I wished I had the one of the woollen cloaks Susan and Lucy knitted me every winter. I blinked at a sudden realisation (I was partly disappointed my vision remained dark).

Would my sisters be knitting a cloak this winter? Would I see Edmund _immerse_ himself in coffee during the parliament meetings? Would Lucy gather us in her room and introduce us to another pet? Would Susan paint Narnia's majestic snow this year? And who would Edmund go to when his feet got too cold at night if I wasn't there? Because I realised with a jerk that it was very unlikely I was going to leave Galma alive. I had, foolishly and rashly, decided to rush into a plan that I hadn't even thought up yet. How was I going to get Razia out of these dungeons? The High Princess was dead, and that meant security would be at the peak. So, how was I going to get _myself_ out of these maddening dungeons? Would I ever even see light again? Would I ever know if my brother survived? Would I ever see my siblings again? Ever see _Narnia_ again? I should have listened to my sister. She was right. And I didn't doubt Edmund would rage war upon Galma if I was dead, swallowing the small country up in the span of mere days. Oh, Aslan, what had I done?

"Peter? Peter. _Peter_!"

My voice was raspy. "I'm an idiot."

Kaios laughed, finding my arm first, and then my shoulder. I couldn't see him in the dark but I could precisely imagine the insulting expression on his face. "I'm glad you finally realised. Now, let's go. If we are going to find the girl, we have to move."

I heard a footfall and flailed my arms before I caught his wrist. "What about Amir?" I asked, knowing how important he was.

"Well," he said, and I heard him take a step back, "if he's been _here_ for ten years," and I could imagine him squinting in the dark to stare at the prisoners, "he's no use to us anyway."

I flinched.

* * *

The cell we found her in blessedly had a window. She was locked in the upper floors, where the lanterns were lit, and the guards were more concentrated. Kaios and I had chosen different targets. We sneaked to the yawning men, and a small hit was all it took to dispatch them. Then, we had searched every cell (most were empty) until we heard a loud whimper.

She was weeping, huddled in one corner of the moonlit cell. As if in an epiphany, I realised the day had passed, and I could imagine Edmund yelling at our sister for not forcing me come with, or knocking me out and _dragging_ me back to griffin. And then Susan yelling back that he was dying, there was no time. To that, I knew Edmund would surrender. If he was alive. I gave myself a shake and waited patiently as Kaios worked to open the door with a small metal clip—the guards had not been carrying any keys. When the door opened and we hasted in, Razia rose to her feet and stumbled back with a fearful gaze.

I extended my hands forwards.

"It's alright," I said. "It is I. The High King." She blinked. "It's Peter," I amended, stepping closer.

"Your—your Majesty?" she whispered unbelievingly, squinting in the dim light.

"Yes. Yes," I said. "Come quickly."

And she took my hand.

I nodded at Kaios.

And we ran out of the cell.

.

.

It took us mere minutes to find the stairs that would lead us to the lower floors just above the dungeons. In a frenzy of taps of boots on stone, frantic looks shot behind us, wrists caught, backs pushed and pulled, and shoves returned with scowls, we finally made it to the castle.

Then, we approached cautiously, boots taken off lest the soft sounds should attract unwanted ears. Kaios whispered behind me that we were close to the kitchens, and I looked Razia's way. I was still holding her wrist. She nodded. She could find her way out of there, having many trusty friends there and knowing rare passageways she had discovered during her years working as an assistant cook in the kitchens. And we could escape _with_ her. Receiving an encouraging nod from Kaios, I turned sharply, beginning to trot into the empty corridor that would take us to the kitchens. It was suspicious that no guards were positioned in the lower floors, but as it to our advantage, we, in our thrill and escalated beats of hearts, derided the prospect of a trap.

And when, finally, we reached the kitchens, we dared to stop to catch our breaths. Kaios leant against the wall and rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, while I urged Razia to stay close to him, and went to open the door. The shadows sweeping out from the gaps made it evident the kitchens weren't left unoccupied.

I looked at Kaios. He seemed to have regained his breath. He nodded.

And the door opened.

* * *

"Well, Osgar, you were the last person I expected to see _here_."

Two pairs of feet and hands were visible, crawling slowly behind the tables, unnoticed by the many armed men that stood attention, behind their captain, face to face with the nonchalant blond.

"Throw me your sword," said a different voice, bolder and noticeably older, Osgar's.

A taut head-shake. "It's a precious possession."

The pair had now circled around the room, carefully concealed by the shadows the tables cast in the lanterns' light.

" _Give it to him_ ," said a third voice, and a collective thud of boots falling on the ground was heard. The voice was harsh, but those who knew him well could spot the hint of concern and alarm he had effectively learned to hide from the enemies.

"Aviso," answered the first voice, flourishing his sword and pointing it at a raven-topped head. The man stiffened, knowing he was well within the range of the offence, should it be made. "I don't think the Duke Chancellor would be happy to hear of the death of his heir. Let me go in peace."

The pair had succeeded in reaching the handles of the small door hidden securely behind the large cabinet rarely opened, in fear of a superstitious curse laid upon the opener. The door, if opened, would achieve a squeak in the hinges, thereby alerting the perked up guards instantaneously.

Knowing this precisely, the blond kicked the table behind him, causing all the materials laid upon it to fall. The metallic echoes did not cease for some long seconds. The blond stepped closer to the raven-haired man, who had wisely thrown up in his hand in surrender. No one dared move. All motion had ceased. Even the pair remained exceptionally silent inside the dark and low tunnel they had uncovered when they opened the door under the cover of the tumultuous sounds.

"Let me go?"

"No," said two voices simultaneously, the previous two. "Go on. Kill him. Sera will make a perfect Duchess."

A thin streak of blood seeping down the pale neck made two flinch in the room.

"Tell us of him, who killed the High Princess, and you will be spared," said Osgar's smug voice.

The pair in the tunnel stiffened and hands were suddenly shoving backs, ushering the other forward.

The blond sheathed his sword and the heir finally let himself breathe. The blond knelt.

"You choose to die?" said Aviso's voice. He received a nod. "You loved her." He shook his head. "Osgar, perhaps we can—"

But Osgar had already unsheathed his sword, a terrible grin spreading across his hideous face.

And then the golden of the pair froze even when his companion had almost reached the moonlight shining at the end, the blades of grass of the unguarded orchard promising a safe escape.

"Let it be quick," the blond pleaded.

And Osgar, smiling, brought down his sword.

Death was staring him with a menacing grin, rubbing her hands.

And yet.

The utter fool.

" _Stop_!"

* * *

" _Stop_!" I yelled desperately as I ran out to reveal myself. All heads turned in my direction and I was extremely relieved to see that Kaios still had a head to turn. I raised my hands when swords were brandished and pointed at me. "I'm unarmed. Unarmed."

I had left Alvera with Razia. She must be out of the castle grounds by now.

"You killed her," Osgar hissed poisonously, "and you're going to pay," and he began towards him, slow, savouring each malignant step.

"Osgar, don't," Srif said suddenly. And the captain stopped, still not taking his murderous eyes off me. "Arrest him. And Kaios," —he turned to the said lieutenant— "go back to your rooms and remain there until further notice." He then groaned, gingerly dabbing the small cut on his neck.

"Yes," said Aviso as he suddenly gripped my arm, very subtly winking at me. I cleared my throat. "And I and my guards will escort _His Majesty_ to the dungeons."

" _You_ ," the captain hissed at me, "will be hanged tomorrow. And you," —he turned to Kaios's stricken face— "will be demoted to palace guard for assisting a murderer, then we will decide your punishment further."

Osgar yanked me from Aviso and lifted me off my feet by my collar, shaking me until my teeth rattled. I groaned while many others laughed. I punched the burly man's arms but he didn't budge. So I kicked him between the legs. He squealed like a child and released me. I dropped to the ground and watched, amused, as Osgar's face turned red. Srif was laughing, Aviso tried to stifle his chuckles, but Kaios looked consternated. He was looking at Osgar.

And his punch made the world go dark and caused sounds to blur. When I could see and hear again, I found myself lying on the ground, and Kaios and Srif pleading the captain to stop. With a last kick to the stomach, he stepped back, and the guards hauled my limp form to my feet. My head lolled ahead.

"In the morning," Osgar's voice said, "I will pull the rope myself and watch as it crushes your throat."

"No," I heard Kaios say and raised my head to look at him. "I killed her. It was me."

I tried to object but couldn't find the strength. However, I didn't need to. "Don't lie, Kaios," said Aviso, his voice suddenly thick, "we found the sword he left there."

"But I helped him," he countered vehemently. "Kill me instead. If he dies, you _know_ Galma won't survive his brother's wrath." He turned to Srif. "Please. Srif, _please_."

Srif's eyes watered. I could see he understood _why_ Kaios was insisting. He coughed. "Take them both to the dungeons. We will confer with my father and the king first."

His was the highest authority in the room and everyone exchanged glances before Osgar nodded reluctantly. I felt Aviso's hand on my shoulder before they pushed me forward, making me stumble. And as I and Kaios were led out of the room, a horrified scream rang in a distance. Everyone froze. Whispers echoed. And men began running in the direction of the scream.

No one moved until the men came back, the sheer volume and rawness of the scream still haunting each mind.

And when the men did come, sprinting and panting, their faces terrified and shocked, everyone was attentive again.

"It's the king!" they bellowed as they ran. "The king is dead!"

Kaios and I looked at each other, thinking of the same person: Felana.

I could not control my laughs.


	28. Chapter 28

**Peter**

I woke to the serene shine of the moon pouring in through the narrow window of the cell I had been provided. I wasn't in the underground dungeons, I was certain. Moonlight didn't reach there. As I sat up and my bleary vision settled, I rubbed my head and looked around.

I wasn't alone.

"Kaios?"

He hugged his legs tighter. "I wish they'd just cut my head off."

I blinked. "Kaios? Are you alright?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"What happened?" I asked, resting against the wall opposite to Kaios.

"They knocked you out again," said a different voice.

I jumped, realising she was sitting right beside me. Her hair shimmered like waves as the silver light spilled onto her, her pale face content yet aggravated. I didn't understand.

"Shouldn't you be getting crowned?" I asked her, noticing the long and wide cut on her cheek. It was going to scar. I reached out to examine it but she slapped my hand, scowling fiercely. I sighed and let her be. "What _happened_?"

"I just told you," she said.

I rolled my eyes. "What happened _after_ that?"

A gust of cold wind rushed in and I was thankful for it in the choking vicinity of the cell. I hoped it had cheered Kaios too but he had rested the side of his face on his knees, eyes tracing the cracks in the wall, drumming his finger on his legs, melancholy.

"Felana?" I said, impatient.

She sighed. "Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning then." With another long breath let out, she began, "Back in the castle, my attendants told me that my father wished for my presence in his chambers. I dismissed them and retrieved the dagger my mother had gifted me when I was six. I was waiting in my father's anteroom when his valet came to fetch me." She swallowed. _"Selene_ was there." I closed my eyes at her mention. "They'd already washed her and changed her clothes. My father was watching her, unmoving, _lost_. I almost felt compelled to console him. But I pressed a hand over my dagger hidden under my dress and sat beside him. I kissed my sister's forehead and I _wept._ My father held me as I cried. He had wept too, you know. He did love us. But it had to be done. I hugged him and whispered prayers into his ear. And when he was unsuspecting, I thrust the dagger into him. He didn't even whimper. Instead, he laughed and hugged me close, and whispered, ' _I'm proud of you._ ' I'm proud of you! What kind of man who has been betrayed by his own daughter says that? He truly was a fool.

"When he bled out, I laid him down. He was my father." Here her voice faltered. "I couldn't help it. I cried over his body. That was the mistake that found me here instead of the Throne of Galma." She laughed at herself. "Leoma found me."

I gulped. "She was the one that was screaming."

Felana nodded wordlessly. Then all was silent. I let them be for some time. But at last, I had to ask. "Wha—"

"Osgar hit you over the head when you began laughing," Kaios said suddenly, drawing my eyes to him. "Then they threw the three of us in here."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"The southern courtyard. That's where they keep prisoners like us."

"What do you mean?"

"Prisoners," he said, "that are waiting."

"Waiting for _what_?"

Felana scoffed with her head still turned away. And Kaios looked at me as if I was daft. "For _death_ , you utter _fool_."

.

.

I tried to form words but stuttered to a stop. Then I tried again, "They're going to kill us?"

"Tomorrow morning," confirmed Felana, "at the city joint. It's built on a hill. They're making sure your people will see you get hanged."

"But they can't kill _you_! You're the _queen_ now!" I said desperately, jumping to my feet, beginning to pace.

She shrugged. "Not if you've killed your predecessor."

"Everyone knows Tromin killed his brother (or at least, tried to)," Kaios said flatly, lying down on the ground, closing his eyes, and crossing his legs at the ankle, enjoying the wind as it brushed past each one of us, entering and exiting through the small window.

For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of the leaves outside the cell. But then Felana said, "But there was no proof. And besides, the ministers don't approve the idea of an independent queen."

"But there has to be a way!" I said, pacing faster. "There has to be _something_! Anything."

They didn't reply. And I kicked the wall. Then I stepped onto an outcropped brick and grasped the bars, trying to break them with brute force. They didn't even shake. Frustrated, I banged my fist onto the wall, only managing to hurt myself and impress no one.

"You should've left when you had the chance," whispered Kaios, his eyes still closed.

"I saved your life!"

He turned to his side, away from me. "And yet you killed us both."

The words cut and I sat down, running a brisk hand through my hair, feeling tremors shake my hands. I had made a promise. I'd promised my sister I'd return to her. The only persuasion that had finally convinced her to go without me, for the utter faith she had in her older brother was greater than the uncertainty that gripped each heart that loved. Otherwise, Aslan knows she _would have_ knocked me out. I wiped my eyes and rubbed my face in hope to dry it of the tears I had not intended to shed. And I'd promised. I'd promised Lucy I would knit her a scarf. It was silly but I fully intended to keep it. _Had_ intended. And my brother, my only brother and my best friend. Before every battle, in illness, and in the alone nights we had shared under the blanket of the starry sky, I had promised him my return. Always. I closed my eyes, willing the tears away.

"Are you alright?" Felana's voice asked, and I felt the soft touch of her hand on my arm. "I understand, you know, why death should scare you and not us. We've nothing left. No one we would miss and no one that would miss us." A graceful smile tugged at her lips. "I'm just eager to meet my family again."

I swallowed. "Do you know—what is going on out there?"

"Ah," she said, "when you were asleep, Malar paid a visit."

"Why?"

"To boast that he's king."

"He's _what_?" I said, receiving a small shrug from her.

"He was the next in line after me. And, well, he made no delays."

I shut my eyes and tried to breathe futilely. I clutched to my heart, curling away from Felana. "What else?"

Silence.

I turned back to her. " _What else_?"

She sighed. "Aviso and Srif have gone to ' _negotiate'_ with your brother."

I let out a long laugh, the sound erupting by itself from my chest. As if a most hilarious joke had just been related to me.

"He's going to kill them both."

.

.

* * *

**Edmund**

The pair was not matched. They were contrasted in every possible way. The taller of the two, and evidently the younger, was a noble, it was apparent from the augustly tunic that graced his lean body, and the ring he wore to show reverence to the sole sovereign of the kingdom. His hair was combed neatly to one side, and the fragrance of the oil used hovered like a pestilent smell in the atmosphere. The pale skin had been powdered and as that became more obvious, quiet snickers and giggles permeated the previously grim vicinity. He was not a soldier but still wore a long sword. The other, however, had earned the possession of such a weapon, walking with graceful and bold and daring strides. His voice had not been heard before by anyone but many could guess the commanding tone it would exhibit. His authority reflected in his eyes, which refused to be downcast. His skin was weary and a little saggy, decorated with small scars here and there. Even at such a delicate age, all his hair was intact, possibly dyed with brown.

They had come without a herald.

I laughed to myself and flourished out a sword from the burning furnace, still gleaming red. The dwarfs working there seemed startled but did not say more than a few mumbled grumblings. Then, walking past my soldiers, making all heads raise, I strode confidently and angrily towards the two Galmans who had the audacity to present themselves to my queens. Susan and Lucy were wearing their beautiful crowns, and both were armed, and protected by the leopard sisters, Vo and Vella, baring their teeth at the two uninvited presences. My sisters curtsied when the younger bowed. He was laughing. Laughing!

But now, he shrieked, feeling the heat radiate from the burning blade I held not two inches from his neck. He froze and the older was just about to wield his sword when I stopped him with a malign glare.

Susan and Lucy had moved behind me.

"Sir," said the older, "you would do well to not threaten the Crown Prince of Galma."

I ignored him. "Tell me," I said to Srif, " _where_ is my brother?"

"Sir," said he, scrutinising me, "you will pardon me, but I recall seeing you as a guard in our castle."

"Just answer me," I said, taking a step forward and bending my elbow so the sword wouldn't pierce his neck.

"But, kind sir," he said with a gulp, "I don't know who you are."

The older man was clearly irked by his companion's ignorance. He would have introduced me to him but Orieus chose that moment to appear, pushing aside the flaps of his tent. Before his tall figure, Srif cowered back, a cautious hand placed on the hilt of his sword.

"He," said Orieus, "is the King of Narnia. And I suggest you answer him."

Srif turned back to me, nonplussed. "You're Peter's brother."

"I might just have start wearing my crown to battles," I said wryly, filled with joy to hear my sisters giggle behind me. "Now," I said, handing the sword to Athelius who had just appeared beside me, feeling my initial anger subside, "tell me where he is. Is he alright?"

"Perhaps," suggested Athelius meekly, exchanging glances with my lieutenants and General, "we should proceed inside."

I nodded.

* * *

Only my sisters, my General, and captain, and Lord Aristeus were present besides myself and the two apprehensive Galmans. I was sitting on one end of the small council table in the war tent. Night had crept in fast after the small conversation I had had with Srif and Aviso (I had learned his name only minutes before). The moon appeared giant tonight and we need not have light the lanterns as the silver light had illuminated every corner of the tent. The Galmans were fidgeting in their seats and as I watched them I wondered: _Just how dumb can they be_?

They had walked into the enemy camp with no heralds or protection, only two weak swords against a whole army. They'd just provided us two hostages, and if I was believing Aviso, one of them was the Crown Prince. There was no need for a discussion. In the morning, we would propose an exchange. The Crown Prince for the High King. A perfect bargain.

"They're going to hang him," was the suddenly slurred out sentence that slapped me out of my thoughts.

"What?" Lucy and Susan quizzed Srif, looking at each other in consternation.

Orieus stood taller and Athelius rose from his seat. I and Aristeus exchanged a glance but I quickly wrenched my gaze back to the Galmans. Srif exhaled heavily and said calmly, "He was arrested for killing the High Princess Selene."

"But he didn't kill her!" I said, outrageous, rising from my chair; it fell and a subsequent hush fell after the thunderous impact. "It was a woman, a servant perhaps—I don't know! But it wasn't _him_! I saw him weep. I _watched_ my brother shed tears for that woman. And you come here and tell me he will be hanged for a crime he wouldn't _think_ to commit!" I brought my fist down on the table, shaking it. No one moved. I balled my hands into fists, my eyes glued shut. "Tell Kivus he'll be delivering a message to the King Tromin."

"Uh, King Tromin is dead," said Aviso's voice and I raised my head.

" _What_?" the Narnians said collectively.

"He was killed. By his daughter, the Princess Felana," replied Srif to the bemused Narnians, "it was time people realised he was destroying our kingdom," and his eyes fell on Aviso. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "They arrested Felana, too. She will be hanged with your brother and Kaios tomorrow, at the city joint."

I fought to remain calm. "And who's the king now?"

Srif licked his lips. "My father," he said miserably. I shook my head twice. " _But_ ," he said hastily, "that is why we need your help."

"Pardon me?" said Athelius. "You need _our_ help?"

Srif nodded.


	29. Chapter 29

**Edmund**

It was a simple proposition, although the plan that I had surmised would have to be carried out wasn't anything sober, it would have to be intricate, each part, each flank taken care of, no loose ends left. But despite the complexity, I was impressed, and pleased by the Galmans' willingness to aid us in salvaging our brother and High King. Both were cunning, one wise, the other witty and sarcastically humorous and charming, a quality we could put to good use in our expedition. He was the bishop, path crooked and boxes corrupted. Aviso's authority over the ranks could ensure us a safe breach in the security of the castle. He was the rook, straight but mightily powerful. And I, with my abilities in stealth, was like the knight, jumping over barriers and covering distances with lethal secrecy. A wide grin spread across my face as the plan easily put itself together in my mind.

However, that still left the other and undoubtedly trickier part of the plan open and uncared for. I sighed and looked around, eyes lingering on Orieus, who nodded at me in understanding. Sometimes I thought he was _omniscient_. I smiled at him and turned to look at my sisters, agitated by the dangers the plan posed for both their brothers, faces reflecting the darker thoughts that they bore, the uncertainty for us, the fear of leadership. I spared my captain a glance. He nodded as well, agreeing with me silently. And at last, Lord Aristeus also gave me an encouraging nod, although his eyes were still unsure.

"Alright," I said, "Athelius, have an eagle carry a message to Sybil. His efforts might not have been in vain after all."

He bowed before he left to complete his task.

I turned to Orieus. "Relay the message to the king. Thicken the security at the perimeters. Prepare heralds for the queens. They will meet the king in two hours." He nodded. "And take Raviar with you."

"But, my King—"

"Take him."

He hesitated but nodded in the end, and left promptly. After the echoes of his stomps faded, I turned to Lord Aristeus. "How far have your soldiers travelled? Did you receive a report from your guards?"

He nodded. "Twenty miles, your Majesty. They will reach us at dawn, though they will be weary," he answered.

"Don't worry. They will have enough time to rest," I said, smiling. "And now, you must tell Sinon and Kivus to prepare their flanks. While you should help in arranging the weaponry. Orieus will take his flank when he returns. And bring me news of the reinforcements and when they might arrive at Hiekā."

"Your Majesty," he said. And with a bow, he was gone too.

That left my sisters to convince.

"Edmund," said Susan. And I felt her hand on my shoulder. When I turned, I was faced with two pairs of sky-blue eyes in which fear was floating like a plaguing enemy. I sighed, beginning to speak. But Susan interrupted me. "You do realise you almost _died_ today? And the amount of blood you lost—Ed, you're absolutely in no condition to take on such a dangerous mission. I can tell—by the paleness—you're still weak. Please, don't push yourself." I clasped my sisters' hands and raised Lucy's with mine to wipe her tears. "Ed, _please_."

I stood up and beckoned them closer, and presently found my arms filled with two sobbing sisters. "Edmund," said Lucy. " _Please_. You _can't_."

"Well," I said, drawing apart, swallowing back the assaulting tears. "Riding into battle might be a little more taxing, don't you think?" I said, grinning widely.

Susan smacked my arm and I pouted childishly, rubbing the spot she had swatted. "Don't try to be sly with us," she reprimanded sharply. "You _know_ there won't be a battle. That's why you're ready to let us both go along with the army. Because really, how many times have you let us step even in the _near vicinity_ of _any_ battle you and Peter have _ever_ fought?"

"You came along when we campaigned in the west!" I said vehemently.

"Because Peter had already gone ahead and wiped most of the fell!" Lucy said, crossing her arms.

"What about the skirmish in the north two winters ago? Peter let Lucy go while _I_ stayed home and endured the pains of keeping Peter's suitors pleased in his absence!"

"Well, I guess that was generous of him?" Lucy said.

I rolled my eyes. "And Susan," I said, "you train the archers!"

She sighed. "It's not that, Edmund. If you make even _one_ mistake, we might just have to watch _both_ our brothers get _hanged_!"

"Oh, do be brave," I said, rubbing her arm. Then I kissed both their heads even as they frowned agitatedly, and turned to the Galmans.

"You need a disguise," said Aviso, rising from his chair. Srif also pulled down his feet from the table.

He grinned. "Now, _that's_ a problem I can solve."

* * *

I glowered at the mindlessly laughing Galman Prince.

"This is _ridiculous_."

He only laughed harder.

"You really couldn't find a better fit?"

He wiped his eyes with a finger, finally ceasing his laughs. "It's all he had," he said, shrugging innocently. "And besides, he didn't owe me a lot of a money. Just a few coins after I lost the last game."

The outfit was supposed to resemble a traditional night gown the Galmans wore: a frieya. It was grey and baggy, with no embellishments. The collar was flat and circled chokingly tight around my neck, making me tug at it every few seconds. And to keep the robe tight around the waist, there was a belt, more ridiculous and colourless than the outfit itself. I sighed and fiddled with the airy sleeves sagging down from my arms, grimacing to see they were inches longer than they ought to have been. I fumbled with the buckle for some slow seconds before I could finally achieve a _click_.

Once the belt was on, I cautiously stepped forward, careful that I didn't get my feet tangled in the hems of my overly large trousers and fall into an unceremonious heap. However, after two successful steps, I gained confidence and we strode to where Aviso stood with the three horses.

When he saw us approach, a glee-filled smile tore through his features, and he looked me up and down before holding up a finger as if he had a comment.

" _Not_ a word."

He laughed.

.

.

As the figures at the main gate of the southern courtyard became more than just blurry silhouettes, I meticulously arranged the frieya so I, at least, wouldn't look like a shrunk giant beggar wandering the streets. Then, one by one, I checked that all my six daggers were still in place, feeling three in my boots with my fingers prodding the leather, another in the sole of the left boot as I rubbed it against the stirrup, and two in the belt of the tunic I was wearing beneath the frieya as I slid my fingers gently along my waist. They were my only weapons, completely hidden. A sword would have alerted the guards, though I wondered if we could have hidden it beneath the large frieya. Perhaps we could have made use of the absurd garment. I sighed and prayed to Aslan that this new thrill of an adventure would not end in a tragedy similar to the one that still haunted me: the image of my brother kissing her crimson lips and then weeping harshly for a loss that was not meant to be.

I sighed and straightened my back, urging the horse faster with a soft kick. Aviso and Srif's seemingly hebetudinous horses also picked up speed as mine galloped ahead with energetic thumps. Then, when we had come close enough to see the faces of the guards' faces illuminated by the several lanterns hung outside the gates, my horse skidded to a halt, whinnying. Aviso and Srif took the lead and I followed, keeping my head down. Once more, my horse stopped with a last few gallops, and I remained silent as Aviso and Srif slid off their horses and approached the guards.

Everyone bowed to the prince and he, courteously, bowed back. When Aviso beckoned me to approach, I dismounted my own horse and slowly walked to the men. When I reached them, instantly conspicuous due to my _ridiculous_ costume, the front guard raised a skeptical brow and scrutinised me in the lantern's light before questioning Aviso about my presence.

"He's an assistant in the kitchens," Aviso lied without a single falter in his voice. "He lost his way at night. Returning from the camp, we thought we could bring him along."

"Right," said the guard. "And did the Narnian King accept our king's offers? He must have for you have safely brought our prince back. If I may," he said, turning to Srif, "it was rather unwise of the king to send you without heralds."

"Well," Srif said smugly, "Father _is_ a fool."

The guard only blinked, at a loss for words. Srif clapped his shoulder, subtly shaking his head.

"Now, open the gate," Aviso said as he stepped forward.

The two giant iron gates opened, revealing a stone courtyard bustling with cheery soldiers, air filled with casual conversations and the whinnies of horses.

.

.

The chatters died and motion ceased when the guard announced Srif's presence. Everyone bowed before their prince before re-joining their friends and continuing their conversations in low voices. Srif, as inconspicuously as he could, grabbed my arm to lead me through the crowd, Aviso following closely behind. He nodded his head at the people slowly gathering around to observe the curious scene of their prince wandering aimlessly through the stone courtyard. Srif was clearly growing annoyed and broke into a trot. As I continued to walk at a normal pace, Aviso jogged past me and then turned, trotting backwards. His brows went up in unspoken question. I looked at him sullenly and sighed as I, too, ran in their direction, trying to ignore the laughs thrown at me.

Finally, Srif stopped and all eyes turned away when he looked around. When I reached him and Aviso, I found myself standing in a roofed corridor, in front of a door, slightly ajar, allowing yellow light to stream out and shine in our eyes. I squinted as Aviso grabbed the knob and opened the door further.

We were greeted by a sword pointed directly at us, a pair of eyes that were angry yet fearful, and a beard so long it was swaying in the wind from the window.

"Gerulf," said Srif gently. He lowered his voice, whispering, "I know you're angry and you _hate_ me but we want to help Kaios. Let us in."

The man, Gerulf, blinked. Then he gulped as his eyes fell onto Aviso. He squinted in the dim light to look at me. I cleared my throat, conscious of my appearance. He, with some reluctance, sheathed his sword, and ushered us in, bowing simultaneously to his prince. Srif nodded his head once and sat on the low bed in the room. As I followed him, I realised I was not at all impressed by the state of the room. It was foul-smelling, and mud-ridden clothes and stinking shoes had been piled up into a dark corner. There were a few desks, two stools, and a round table to dine on. The furniture was close to rotting and the walls needed desperate mending. I pinched my nose and sighed heavily, giving the room a more thorough inspection, spotting cobwebs and blood-splashes on the bedding.

I grimaced.

And when Aviso shut the door, Srif asked him to light another lantern and let the curtains fall over the window. He did so, illuminating the room in a much more profound shine. I looked pleadingly at Aviso, hoping this was the second checkpoint he had not described to my complete satisfaction.

"Please tell me I can take this off," I muttered desperately, raising my hands to let the robe sag down from my arms, emphasising on the desperation.

He smiled fondly and nodded.

I sighed with relief and quickly stripped off the bizarre thing, uncomfortable that all three pairs of eyes were fixed on me. When the grey linen was at my feet, I kicked it away, beneath the bed. Then I let my sixth dagger flourish in my hand for a split second and disappear behind my back in a hypnotic moment, like a wave rising and falling beneath the surface. All eyes blinked and I held up my open palms, shrugging and smirking proudly.

Srif smiled. "Well, clearly you're the trickster of the family."

I scowled, gaze narrowing. Srif smirked and turned to Gerulf who had sat on one of the stools. Aviso also took a seat at the small and poorly manufactured dining table and gestured at the unoccupied stool. I sighed and sat as well. Srif had already roused suspicion by visiting a lowly guard. And I could hear the clock inside my head:

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock._

I shook my head and allowed myself to acknowledge the very simple fact: we were running out of time.

"Where did they take them?" Srif finally asked, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward.

"Where do you think?" Gerulf hissed. Srif's brows went up. Gerulf sighed and buried his face into his hands. He rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm and said, "I'm sorry. I haven't slept in almost two days and I'm paranoid." He sat up straighter. "They're here," he whispered. "All of them. In the southern cells."

"Southern cells?" I asked, looking at Srif and Aviso.

"No," said Gerulf, pointing a finger at me, "just who is _this_?"

Aviso coughed. " _He_ is the King of Narnia."

Gerulf froze. "You mean—"

"Yes," Aviso said.

"He's—"

" _Yes_."

Gerulf swallowed hard before turning to me. Then he nodded. I nodded back and accepted his silent apology. "Now, tell me," I said, "the southern cells?"

"They're opposite to the stable. You passed right by them," he told me. "That's where they keep the prisoners who are to be executed the next day."

I gulped. "Right."

"Well," said Srif, "that just makes our work easier."

"Osgar increased security," answered Gerulf, shaking his head. "Thirty men are guarding the building right now."

Aviso shifted uncomfortably. "And Osgar?"

Gerulf opened his mouth but a knock on the door interrupted him. Aviso shooed me back by waving his hand frantically. And I stood up, choosing the darkest corner as my hiding place, blowing off the second lantern. Then I was as still as a statue as Aviso went to open the door.

It creaked. And a timorous voice said, "Your Highness, your father, the king, wished me to inform you that he is leaving to attend a meeting arranged by the sovereigns of Narnia. And he asks that you join the princess in the Middle Hall immediately."

"Why?" asked Srif's voice.

"The royal family has gathered to pay their respects to the late king and the High Princess."

"And of course my father won't be there." He sighed. "Go on. I shall come when I'm done with my business here. Gerulf is quickly losing a great deal of money." I could see his wide, complacent smirk.

"Your Highness."

And I could hear the retreating footfalls. The door closed and I once again revealed myself and lit the lantern with the matches beside it.

"Oh," said Srif, "I had almost forgotten you were here."

"Shut up. Now, if the king is leaving, it means Orieus already left the message. We're late," I stated. Sighing, I asked, "Do you reckon he took Osgar with him?"

"Yes," Aviso and Gerulf both replied. Then with a glance at Gerulf, Aviso said, "He's too cowardly to not take his captain along."

"You always did hate my father, didn't you, cousin?" Srif said, smiling.

Aviso fumed. "I _told_ you—"

"Cousin?" I prompted.

Gerulf laughed and Aviso looked daggers at me. I raised my hands, shrugging. "Alright, so _not_ cousins. But how are we going to get in?" I asked Srif.

He just grinned.

* * *

Their cloaks were floating behind their backs, the sides of their faces hidden in the dark, swords gleaming as the moonlight spilled over the metal. I watched, amused, as the lanterns' light illuminated and emphasised on Srif's delicate eye-roll as Aviso continued to _gently_ explain their need to see the prisoners.

"The prince cherishes his times with lieutenant Kaios and he wishes to see him one last time, to say goodbye. Let us pass," Aviso was saying.

I chuckled and pulled myself onto the roof. I rolled a little way on the slanted roof before stopping. I crouched, once more watching the guards apologise profusely.

"Please, try to understand. We have orders from the captain."

Shaking my head, I stood up, raising my arms to my sides for balance. Then I began walking on the thin plank on the top of the slanted shed. I saw Srif look at me and I jumped, twirling mid-air. Then, I came to the end of the plank and the roof of the guards' quarters opposite to the dome building where my brother was being held. I looked at the dark sky and prayed to Aslan to keep me safe.

I took six steps back. Calmed my breathing. And _sprinted._

Then I jumped, the wind fanning my face. The brilliant feeling of defying gravity.

My landing was perfect, no stumbles.

The castle walls were a hundred feet tall, with three floors. I had just landed on the lowest one, stepping lightly on the square railing and then jumping once more onto the solid marble of the dark corridor of the floor. Smiling, I stood up and brushed off dust from my clothes.

Then I sprinted again, catching blurry glimpses of little figures of the guards, and Srif and Aviso still bickering with them.

"That is an absurd concern," Aviso was saying.

I skidded to a stop at the turn, hearing faint murmurs from the opposite hallway of the direction of my pursuit. They were growing fainter, footfalls retreating. I waited for the voices to vanish completely. Then, I made another sprint to the end of the next corridor.

Unable to control my speed at the last moments, I crashed into the large window sill, almost toppling over the side. Laughing at myself, I straightened, and realised I couldn't see Aviso and Srif anymore. They were hidden by the ledges protruding from the walls of the Southern Cells. I took a deep breath and jumped, catching the window frame. Then I swung back and forth, bending my knees and then straightening them again, building momentum, taking short and deep breaths to keep exertion from wearing me out.

When I was fast enough, I released the frame.

In the next moment, I was flying through the air, conscious of the sheer height.

I collided directly with the railing, barely managing to catch it with my arms as the impact left me breathless. My foot slipped twice before I found a cavity to place in it. Then I pushed myself over the railing, falling to the other side.

I lay on the cold floor for a few seconds, gasping erratically, knowing no guards were placed on the first level.

Then, mustering strength, I stood up, still panting.

Leaning over the railing that faced the courtyard, I looked down to spot Aviso and Srif. Waving my arms over my head, I caught Srif's eyes. Then I winked and he did not suppress a smile.

He stepped forward and the guards who were still arguing with Aviso bowed.

He was bold and commanding. "I am the Crown Prince, and in my father's absence, the Head of State. Unless you want to suffer the severe consequences of your foolish actions, I suggest you let us both step _through_."

The guards exchanged consternated looks. At last, one nodded decisively and they stepped out of the way.

Watching them disappear under the ledges, I pulled back, smiling.

Now, I only had to find my way to the cells.

To Peter.

* * *

It was no easy feat to elude the guards at every turn, hiding behind curtains, slipping into the shadows in a second's time, stuffing myself under tables randomly present in a corridor. At last, tired of the never-ending efforts, I blew off all the lanterns, and the whole building erupted into sheer hysteria, hollering voices shooting off the dome ceiling in almost eldritch echoes. Amused, I slipped out of my hiding place and the shrieks and bellows continued to hide the sound of my steps as I walked ahead, checking the cells, only to find them empty. I felt defeated as I raced through the narrow corridors, evading guards in the darkness by mere inches, poking my head through doors. Every room was empty. There was no guiding sound. Nothing but the darkness and the growing ache in my chest to find my brother. I thumped my foot on the ground in frustration. But I sighed and ran again. More turns, more doors, more empty cells. Now, the guards had begun lighting the lanterns again, lieutenants shouting orders to find the intruder.

I stopped, rubbing my hands over my face. In a shadowy corner, I sat, heart heavy and mind racing.

There was a flicker of light at the end of the hallway, inching closer.

I sighed and stood up, and pulled out the first of my daggers with a quick sweep, cutting the air with its sharp edges. Taking a defensive stance, I waited for the guards to come closer; I could already see them squinting curiously in the dark. Perhaps after the combat one could take me to my brother.

The ruckus of footsteps played nearer and nearer as I flung the dagger in the air and caught it again and again.

They were almost there…

"What are you _doing_?"

I whirled around, the blade already pressed against the pale throat. Then I blinked as the flickering flame of the torch he held illuminated his familiar face. "Srif?"

He sighed and pushed my hand down. "Come on," he said, gesturing me to follow him with a wave of his hand.

"You blew off the lanterns?"

"Yes," I said flatly.

He chuckled softly. "Trickster it is." I scowled in the dark. "Aviso told me to go find you."

"And where is _he_?" I asked and we stopped. "Srif?" He was staring at an open cell, wearing a shocked face. I furrowed my brows. "Srif?"

"Come on," he said in a dejected tone, bowing down to enter the cell.

As I went through as well, I realised it was not empty. A blurry figure was crouching down on the ground, examining the dusty walls, running a finger over them. Srif squatted beside him. Satisfied that it was Aviso, I let myself inspect the moonlit space. It was a decent prison, one could say. Not suffocating but not too airy either. The cold wind coming in through the window ensured the temperature never got too high. The floor wasn't damp and the walls, despite being rough, weren't dirty or bloody.

I turned to Aviso. "What are we doing here?" I asked him.

He bowed his head, despaired. "I'm sorry."

"What?" I said, looking at Srif now.

He swallowed a lump. And then shook his head. "They're gone."

"What do you—" I froze. "They didn't—but it was to wait till morning! The king went to negotiate with my sisters! He can't kill—"

Aviso stood up. "I don't think Malar is going to negotiate _anything_ ," he said seriously, raising his head, locking eyes with me. "I think he tricked us."

I closed my eyes. "No. He can't."

"He outwitted us," Aviso said. "There's nothing we can do for them anymore. They're going to die. They _have_ died."

"You have to go back," Srif said. With my eyes still closed, I felt his hands on my shoulders. "If we're right, you'll have to lead an army tomorrow morning. I'll gather what I can from the ministers, stall the reinforcements until yours get here, and—"

I shook away from him, stepping back, clenching my fists.

"Edmund."

"No. No. No!" I said, finally opening my eyes. "I'm going to save my brother," I said with absolute firmness. "He isn't dead. He _isn't_. Not yet." Trying futilely to calm myself and my breathing, I said, "Where did they take them?"

They both looked at each other. "Not the city joint," Aviso said. He closed his eyes. Then he promptly opened them, defeat clouding over his eyes. "The western courtyard. They execute slaves there."

I was already sprinting through the corridor.

.

.

I didn't stop even to seize one breath. The clock in my head was louder now, almost mockingly rhythmic. _Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock._

But I didn't pay it any heed. I listened to only to my brother's voice, to the name he kept uttering. Mine.

I knew I was out of the southern cells. Beyond that, I had no sense of my position, I kept only stumbling north-west, crashing into armoured chest, door frames, falling to my knees, ignoring their twinges. I could not afford to waste even a moment.

Then a delicious smell hovered in the air, but my mind had no time to realise I was stumbling through the kitchens, or any time to register the pain of the tables crashing into me, leaving me struggling for air.

I saw a door, saw moonlight, stone. A courtyard.

My legs were running, mind praying fervently that my brother still lived, eyes blurring with tears.

_Please, please, please. Don't be dead, you big lummox. Don't be dead, don't be dead. Don't be dead!_

I fell over a toppled bowl.

_No, no time! No time!_

I got to my feet and began limping towards the door, eyes followed me, but my sole focus was on the door. To my brother waiting for me beyond it.

And as I stumbled through it, mind cheering when I did not see bodies hanging from the wooden gallows, a hand covered my mouth, an arm around my neck, crushing my throat. I was lifted off my feet. My legs kicked uselessly as my lungs burned for air, mind already dizzying. The pressure eased and I went lax in the arms that had trapped me. No strength. Nothing. Nothing left.

As my vision swam, I tried to focus on the face above me. There was another silhouette near. I was being pulled into a corner. In the silver light, I recognised, with mild amusement, the face, the burly arms that still held me.

I laughed weakly. "Raviar."

A sharp pain pulsed through my skull. My eyes rolled back. And I knew no more.

No more than the clock still mocking me.

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-Tock . . ._

_._

_._

* * *

**Peter**

Ungentle arms pushed me to my knees. Kaios groaned and Felana growled something in Galman at the guards when they forced them beside me. The wooden frames gleamed menacingly at us, brown shining silver. The ropes dangling from them were swaying in the chilly wind, their looped ends appeared to be laughing at us. I bowed my head and began my prayer to Aslan, repeating all my vows, trusting my life to him, my siblings' lives to him.

I heard the executioner mutter something to the guards in Galman and raised my head to face Kaios, tears bristling in my eyes, waiting to fall.

"Which one goes first," he translated for me.

I gave him a shaky nod and stood up, struggling to balance my weight with my hands tied behind my back.

"Peter?" Kaios and Felana asked simultaneously.

I climbed the stairs with unstable steps.

"Peter!" they both shrieked. I turned back just in time to see them getting pushed back down by the guards. They squirmed under their grips, struggling against their bonds. To get to me. "Peter, don't. Don't!" Kaios kept saying.

"I'm sorry," I said and ascended up the rest of the steps. On the platform, the sturdy man who was the executioner grabbed both my arms and shoved me towards the middle gallows. I went without struggle.

"Please," Felana pleaded. "Please don't. _Please_."

But he had already covered my face with the black cloth. Blind now, I felt the coarse rope go around my neck and then tighten. I flinched, my chest heaving with fear and trepidation. But I kept my tears at bay, shutting my eyes tightly.

Without even knowing it, I found myself praying again.

And then the rope was pulled. I chocked.

"No!"

With the blood beating ferociously in my ears, I could scarcely hear them. Pain engulfed me, my throat screamed in agony, the nerves in my brain were bursting. Lungs failing to breathe. Legs kicking hopelessly below me. Choked words of the unfinished prayer never making it out. Salty tears on my lips.

I wanted to scream in the profound pain but I had no voice. My throat was burning. Ears ringing. Eyes itching with tears. Legs still kicking, with less force.

My vision muddled and everything, every thought faded away into black. There was no pain. My lungs weren't scorching anymore. My head didn't feel it was on the verge of bursting. There was only a slight pain of the bruising on my neck. All of a sudden, there was peace, black all around, no sound, nothing. Just the sweet oblivion calling me.

My legs stopped kicking.

And I relished the soft sensation of the wind brushing past me, the swaying motion slowly rocking me to sleep. I went utterly limp and let my head drop ahead.

Screams. Pain-filled, _horrifying_ screams. But I could not understand them.

As the darkness rapidly rushed in, my heart joyed. For there was one voice I could hear clearly even now.

" _PETER_!"

And I took Death's hand.


	30. Chapter 30

**Edmund**

.

.

I _screamed_ as I ran to him, cursing myself, cursing Raviar's damned plan, and _praying_ , as ardently as one can.

Our men had already struck down the guards. And just as I ran up the stairs, Kaios slashed at the rope with a sword, causing Peter to fall.

He didn't move.

I threw myself beside him, fumbling tremulously with the rope around his neck, my fingers were twitching with the overwhelming flood of emotions raging through me. Why couldn't it just come off! But two hands clasped my wrists and pushed my hands down. My chest heaving, I watched impatiently as the slender hands slowly untied his hands, and then pulled off the rope from my brother's neck, and then the cursed black cloth.

As it brushed past my brother's hair, I felt my heart stop. The world around us blurred and I watched, broken, his damp hair and pallid face, the shut eyes and the chapped lips. His chest wasn't rising and falling.

I couldn't breathe.

Black dots invaded my vision and I clutched to my heart.

I couldn't breathe!

But a slap woke me, and I sucked in an urgent breath. It was a raven-haired woman. She was hurt. Her words at first were muddled, but she shook me, and I could hear her over the chaotic ringing in my ears, see her over the black enveloping my world.

"Get a hold of yourself!" she was screaming at me. "He'll live. He will live. He will _live_ ," she said soothingly, her voice like a balm over my open wounds, slowly stitching the slit heart. She took my hand and placed it over my brother's heart. A welcoming _lub-dub_ answered me.

"He's _alive_ ," said many voices at once.

I trembled harshly with my strangled sobs, reeling my brother's limp body towards me in one swift motion, my arms going around him automatically. His head dropped on my shoulder and I cradled his neck, pressing tender kisses to his hair. I kept him as close as was possible, wishing the shuddering sobs would cease. But I found myself trembling even when engulfed by my brother's warmth. I had come so close, _so close_ to losing him. I would not let him go _anywhere_ again. Rearranging him so he half lay in my lap, I brushed away his hair, wiping the sweat off his face. Then I cradled him against me again, crying inwardly at the warm breaths fuming against my neck, holding him tighter as he just _breathed_. Slowly, I began to relax, pulling him up and even closer, hiding my face into his shoulder, seeking the comfort I had dreaded I would find never again. My breathing evened and more colour rushed to his face, and I half-heartedly laid him down, knowing I could not lift him. No matter how scrawny he was, I was scrawnier.

Laughing softly at the thought, I knelt beside him, and tapped his cheek, wincing to realise his lips were too dry. He remained motionless and I refrained myself from panicking again. I could hear his breaths. I sniffed and patted his cheek again, stroking his hair. For some seconds, he still remained lax. But at last, he flickered his eyes open, slowly and deliberately bringing his hand to press on mine. My strangled cry of relief made him frown and I hugged him again, this time almost completely sprawling over him. I might have been bruising his ribs but I didn't care. I held on for long and he laughed hoarsely as he rubbed my back. Then he playfully batted me away and propped up his body on his elbows, blinking at the several faces staring down at him, squinting in the small hint of the orange light in the marvellous gloaming.

He tried to speak but only managed a small and indifferent rasp. He gulped and then winced, his hand going around his bruised neck, rubbing the red marks. I helped him up, letting him lean against me. I looked at Raviar.

"Water. Get him some water," I said.

Raviar left for the kitchens, followed closely by a very bemused Kaios. As Aviso and the men began alerting the others about the abrupt changes, Srif helped the raven-haired woman (Felana, as he told me) into a blanket and they both knelt beside me and Peter, who lay half-asleep in my arms now, exhausted. With a brush of my lips against his hair, I wrapped him in the blanket Srif handed me, shushing him as he fought to wake and struggled against the blanket restricting his movements. I only pulled the warm blanket to his chin, assuring him everything would be alright now. And then Raviar came back with the water (Kaios had still not exhausted his numerous queries, though he seemed more delighted to see his friend than quizzical). I helped Peter drink some of the cool water and he went straight back to sleep, a content smile gracing his lips.

Then I gave him to Raviar, and he (with Kaios still on his heels) took my brother back to the castle. Breathing heavily, I walked down the stairs, relishing the early warmth from the morning sun. Srif and Felana came up on either side of me.

"My uncle," Felana said, slightly wincing as she touched the long cut on her left cheek, "is warring with your sisters at this moment. You don't seem at all concerned."

Srif also quirked an eyebrow.

I laughed, breaking into a trot towards the castle's direction, eager to see my brother again. I turned, jogging backwards, smiling at their befuddled faces. "Your uncle is dead."

She gave me a look and glanced briefly at Srif, both seemed utterly confused, and Srif was clearly stricken.

"Well, _one_ of your uncles is."

* * *

.

.

**Peter**

I woke to a blessed warmth, breaking from a dream I wished I could recall. As the sleep-induced grogginess slowly left me, I became aware of the light weight on my shoulder, and the tickling sensation. I opened my eyes to be greeted by darkness and a faded light from the flickering flame of a bed-side candle. I adjusted on the bed, turning my head to see my littlest sister sleeping contently beside me, smiling in her dreams. Taken by surprise, but all too overjoyed to ask questions, I kissed her forehead, sending thankful prayers to Aslan for bringing her back to me, or bringing _me_ back to _her_. Deliberately, I slid my arm from under her head, making her murmur incoherent sentences and turn to the other side. Stroking back her hair, I kissed the crown of her head, and sat up.

To my gleeful surprise, Susan was sleeping on the other edge of the bed, stiff and curled up, but her face was lit up with joy. I chuckled and scrambled over to her side to pull the blanket over her. She shifted on the bed and I froze with the blanket in my hands, absolutely quiet. When she was still again, I smiled and placed the blanket evenly over her, brushing away her hair from her face. When I was satisfied that she was comfortable enough, I silently slid off the bed, wincing inwardly to realise how cold the floor was to my bare feet.

"Of course, it's cold. It's marble."

I shook my head and turned to my brother. He was leaning into the armchair, rocking back and forth.

"Ed," I said, beginning towards him, overwhelmed with relief to see him alive.

But he stood up abruptly and stopped me with a cheeky look. I made a face. "You've had your time to fuss over us," he said, pointing at Susan and himself. "Save it for Lucy. You know she enjoys it. Remember the time she sprained her ankle, she didn't stop giggling the whole time you bandaged her foot. And—"

"Oh, just shut up," I said, yanking him towards me. In another two seconds, he was smothered against me, any complaints he had muffled into my shoulder. But he soon pushed me away, grimacing. "Edmund," I said sternly, "I think I'm allowed a bit of affection! I thought you were dead!"

Edmund's brows knitted together over his eyes. "No, you didn't."

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean." I looked around. "Where are we? Not Cair."

"Oh, don't you remember?"

"What?" I said, turning to him. And a sudden twinge in my throat caused all of it to flood back in. I stumbled on my weakened knees but Ed lay a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

"Pete? Peter!"

I stood up straight, clearing my throat, swallowing the bile that had risen. "I'm fine. Fine," I said, shaking him away. "Kaios?"

Edmund pushed me into the armchair and knelt in front of me. He pulled out my boots from under the bed. Pushing my foot into one, he said, "He actually visited you while you were asleep. Though he was too preoccupied with the preparations and teasing Raviar about his journals to stay for long."

"Ow!" I exclaimed, softly, swatting his head, but he ducked, giggling. "You pinched me!"

"I did no such thing," Edmund said, shrugging with feigned innocence. I frowned as he placed my right foot into the boot as well. Then he stood up and before I could ask about Felana, he said, "She's alright as well. I mean, she isn't harmed. But she hasn't left her room in hours. Only Srif has been allowed to see her."

He pulled me out of the chair. Then gently shoving me forward, he said, "Come on, I have much to tell you."

Ignoring the slight burning pain in my throat, I said, "It would seem so."

.

.

As Ed led me through the corridors, the guards in the corridors all bowed. Edmund, smiling earnestly, bowed back while I uncomfortably nodded, not unmindful of the fact that only a few hours ago, they would have arrested me instead of this sincere show of reverence.

There were arched windows through which the moonlight slowly slithered in, illuminating the red banners hanging from every door frame. I stared at them as they passed by me, slowing my pace. But Edmund grabbed my arm and forced me to continue on a faster speed, almost causing me to break into a trot. There were white banners too, dreary yet made intriguing by the embellishments that decorated the beautiful velvet. It was a wide river, waves splashing up against the grassy shore, and there was a marvellous figure of a lion drinking from it. But despite the embroideries and the jewels, the white banners were sorrowful, for the world above had dissolved into a grey and laden sky; a magnificent yellow swan spreading her wings, in anticipation of her flight into the clouds, her nest damp and left in dejection with abandonment. It took me a moment to understand, but when I did, I stopped dead in my tracks, terrible chills shooting up my spine, grief pouring in.

"Pete?"

I heard my brother's voice calling me from a distance, but the world was quickly turning grey, sounds blurring together, edges of my vision blackening. There was a ringing sound, never leaving me alone, panic swallowing me alive, heart shrinking, the world now fading away.

A hand on my arm pulled me out, tethering me back.

"Peter?"

I swallowed thickly, blinking away the bristling tears, taking deep, calming breaths. "I'm fine," I said, turning to smile at him.

Edmund raised a dubious brow. "I called you five times and you never heard me. Pete, you can—"

"No," I objected vehemently, "let's keep going. Please."

Edmund nodded.

And ten minutes later, I found myself standing in a giant, open balcony, with silver waves of the moonlight shimmering on the ceiling and the walls. The railing was as high as my waist and pure gold. Gazing down, I realised with a jerk how almighty high we were. In a distance, I could see the wide river I had spotted from the cells at the top of the castle. I gulped, recalling the piteous old man imprisoned there by his cunning brother. Silently I swore I would strive to free him as soon as Ed would allow me to leave. Because I doubted he would now, the witty glint in his eyes told me just how excited he was to explain the grand plan he had so perfectly executed.

As he came up beside me, I placed my elbow on the railing and rested my weight upon it, crossing my legs at the ankle. He grinned with amusement and leant over the railing, staring at the river flowing with a great speed, wide and deep, painted with silver, waves striking the grassy shore, water splashing upwards. Its sight was majestic, glorious, and soul-soothing at the same time. I leant over the railing too, and we silently absorbed its beauty for some time, each mind occupied with different thoughts, grim but peaceful.

Then Edmund said, "They call it Hisella."

I looked at him. "What?"

"Hisella," he said, never taking his eyes off the said river. "They say it— _she_ —is sacred. Do you know why?"

"No," I admitted immediately.

"Tromin's father, the king before him, spotted a lion drinking from it." He finally turned to me, smiling thoughtfully. "He claimed the lion was the size of an elephant, and that he was luminous. He knelt before him, and the lion nuzzled his neck. That day, his wife recovered from a decade-long illness."

I let out a short, sobbing laugh. "Aslan."

Edmund shrugged. "No one knows. It could have been just an ordinary lion. The king died in another week."

"How?" I asked, stricken.

"He jumped off this balcony." I grimaced. "Really," Edmund said. "He was, well, to say it frankly - mad."

I frowned. "That was grim," I said, turning back to the beautiful landscape and the river still flowing with a medium pace now. "So, how did you do it? What was the plan this time?" I asked with my eyes affixed on the river still. I heard his laugh and frowned. Turning back to him, I asked, "What?"

"You just naturally assumed I had a plan?"

"Well, yes," I answered, cocking my head to one side. "You _always_ have a plan."

"I'm flattered," he joked, laughing heartily. "But I'm afraid I'll disappoint you this time." He smiled solemnly. "Raviar was the mastermind. He was the one that pulled it off. And well, I have to say Srif had some great ideas too. And—"

"Wait," I said. "Raviar? The man who almost killed us?"

He shrugged. "Kaios almost killed me."

I shook my head. "You just _had_ to remind me, didn't you?"

Edmund waved his hand. "Sorry, sorry. But listen now. For I am about to tell you of a thrilling adventure."

I looked at him sceptically.

He burst out laughing. "Alright, it's mostly just facts. But I'll make it interesting, I swear."

I turned back and fetched the goblet of water from the table. Drinking the water to soothe my aching throat, I pulled back the chair and sat down. Edmund raised his eyebrows, then chuckled, and sat opposite to me, helping himself with some of the wine, the amphora marvellously silver in the moon's shine.

He took a sip and I said, "On with it then."

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally more than 6000 words long (it's been, now, of course, split into two). Explanations in the next chapter.


	31. Chapter 31

On the very day of Raviar's arrest, I discreetly visited him; it was only in the knowledge of Orieus and Athelius. Now, you must understand. Raviar is not traitorous, or murderous, or violent and vicious. In fact, he is quite like you, foolishly noble. Oh, don't scowl now. You know it's true. Anyhow, I went to see him because I knew that he had deliberately got himself caught. One thing we will both agree upon is that he is burly and a great fighter and soldier. So, instead of trusting my life to my capability against a man like him or chance or miracles, I switched to the devious side. And it _is_ as cool as I make it sound. And don't you fret, I took Orieus with me.

Raviar, apparently, was expecting us, and he had already relayed everything to Sybil, who in turn, told me all he had to say. I wasn't surprised, but I _was_ amused, and suddenly hopeful. So abruptly, every single piece, every picture assembled together, and the puzzle was effortlessly solved.

Be patient, Peter! I'll tell you everything. I just wanted you to see everything as I did.

Alright, if you're that eager: Raviar is an avid hater of King Tromin. And it is for good reason. He had witnessed Tromin's attempt to kill his brother, King Amir. Now, I say 'attempt' because he wasn't successful. Raviar, the then captain of the king's guard, was at the scene to stop him. You may think that would have been the end of Tromin. But it wasn't as simple. Tromin had already lured many of the king's courtiers to his side, offering them their own estates on the southern coasts and ministration over the few of the independent districts. No king or queen holds absolute power over their land, and Tromin exploited that weak link. If he were to be arrested, his men would ignite a rebellion. And it soon would expand into a revolution. Tromin was going to win either way, only accepting defeat would save the kingdom from bloodshed and inevitable war. So, Raviar proposed a bargain: his king's life in return for their surrender. The next day, Tromin announced his brother's untimely and mournful death and his own kingship with morbid cheeriness. That was how Tromin took the throne, Peter. And except King Amir and Raviar, everyone was oblivious to his treachery. Even his own children.

Orieus didn't know. Neither did our sisters. And there is a reason. Since this mission was to be carried out with top secrecy, only the involved parties could know. Also, if our soldiers were to find out that there was a different solution than a battle, it would have downed morale and spirit. They needed to be fuelled by anger and determination to bring you back home with force if necessary. So, only I and Sybil knew about Tromin's treachery, and Raviar's tale. Sybil knew because he was to head to the western port of Fiemàn. He is still there, gathering Amir's loyal ministers whom Tromin had slowly expelled from his court. According to schedule, they should arrive here tomorrow evening.

What did I tell the others? Well, it was simple, wasn't it? The western port is nearer Narnian shores than the Hiekān port. To rule out the possibility of a raid at the seas, Sybil headed there to secure a boat for your escape back to Narnia.

Now, I was to get you out of the castle, to Susan. Tvar would fly you back to camp we had set mere miles away from the castle. And I? Well, I was supposed to stay behind, to rescue King Amir, given I managed to win over Srif; you see, most of the guards in the castle are under his debt, and under his influence, it would have been an easy escape from the castle with King Amir in tow. But, of course, things did not work out that way, and Srif turned out to be the least decent chap in the world. Then, when I woke up in Susan's arms, I knew we were defeated. I had lost all hope of a peaceful negotiation with the king. In the next hour, I sent a falcon, one of the swiftest, to carry a message to Cair Paravel and Anvard that we were in need of urgent reinforcements.

We were actively preparing for battle when Srif and Aviso paid a visit. And suddenly, Raviar's plan was on again. I sent him and Orieus to relay the message to King Malar. Orieus left while Raviar remained in the castle, to free King Amir. And Orieus, along with our sisters, held an audience with Malar.

But you know evil well, brother. Never the ones to play fair. Following Malar, concealed by the veil of the night's darkness, was a whole battalion to ambush our camp. He had already ordered for you to be hanged. And with our weaker numbers and the High King's loss, their victory was inevitable. At least, that was what was expected. Just as the battle was approaching its end, Lord Aristeus's men reached the camp far earlier than anticipated: they had discovered a diversion in the chasms we had chosen as our routes. Then, quickly, the Galman army dissipated and the ones left either surrendered or fled. Malar was killed by Brie when he snuck behind Lucy with a dagger.

You shouldn't smile, you know. Or be even remotely amused. Srif had to hold his weeping sister throughout the morning while the castle rejoiced with King Amir's return.

Ah, well, you see, Malar had tricked us, as I told you. By the time we reached the cells, you were already gone.

If it hadn't been for Raviar, you'd be dead. He's the one who stopped me from thoughtlessly barging in and having the guards put swords through all three of you. When I woke—he had to knock me out in order to restrain me—they were pushing you to the gallows. Raviar and the few soldiers that were unconditionally loyal to him dispatched the guards. And as soon as he was free, Kaios cut the rope.

After that, Aviso informed everyone that King Amir was, indeed, alive, and that the Usurper Malar had died in battle against the Narnians.

And the rest you know.

* * *

**Peter**

.

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, leaving my chair, "I have to go talk to Felana."

"No, wait," my brother said. "I don't think it's the right time."

"Then Kaios—"

"I told you. He's too busy with the preparations. And, of course, teasing Raviar about—"

"Preparations for what?" I asked impatiently, trembling without knowing.

"For Amir's coronation," Edmund said, setting down his amphora and wine, rising from his seat to wrap his arms around my shaking shoulders. I hugged him close, weeping out my sorrows into his shoulder. "Peter?" my brother whispered close to my ear. "Brother, what is it?"

Taking shuddering breaths, frosty lips quivering, I could only say, "Selene."

There was a soft gasp and Edmund hugged me tighter hearing her name. "Do you wish to see her before they—"

"When?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Just before the coronation," he replied, pulling away.

"They'll cremate her?" He only nodded. I closed my eyes. "I will go see her. But before that, there is something else I need to do."

"What?" Edmund asked, slowly ushering me back to the castle once again.

"There was an old man," I said as we entered through the large doorway, the arched gate looming above us. "A kindly old man," I amended. "His younger brother had framed him. I could tell he was good. More than good. He didn't even make fun of you when I told him about the hedgehog incident."

"About _what_?" Edmund asked incredulously, though he did not stop walking through the dimly lit corridor, deliberately choosing to not nod to the guards bowing low before us.

I clapped his shoulder, chuckling. "It was bound to spill one day, Ed. It's a juicy story."

Edmund rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then he brought us both a stop, blinking as if he'd been struck with a great realisation. "Pete?"

"Yeah?" I said as my brows rose.

"Where's my sword?"

I closed my eyes, slapping my forehead with my hand. "I'd completely forgotten!" I said, opening my eyes. "Well, you see, I gave it to someone for safekeeping."

"That's not so bad," Edmund observed.

"Yes, yes, it's not! We just" —I coughed nervously— "have to find her," I finished in a meek voice.

Edmund glowered at me and narrowed his eyes. "You're a bottlehead, you great git," Edmund remarked sharply. He sighed and walked past me. I jumped and hurried to follow him. "Tell me then, about the kindly old man?" he said.

"Yes, well," I said as we made a left turn, now passing by the glass windows, "he was held in the cell adjacent to mine and—"

"Wait. Why were you in a cell?" Edmund asked, furrowing his brows.

I froze, memories and the horrible words I had said in my ignorance surfacing, jabbing with new guilt. She _had_ deserved love, deserved someone better and more noble than me, only I had been too mighty high to see that, recognise her love. I had been an utter fool. And oh, how it had cost me.

_Peter._

Her voice plagued me. A gentle caress soothed my cheekbone and I swivelled, to her the oceanic eyes, the glow of life back in them. Before I could manage even a smile, she laughingly flicked the curls of my hair out of my eyes, and vanished before I could grasp her.

"No!" I yelled, struggling against invisible bonds that restrained me.

"Peter!" my brother was screaming in my face, trying to snap me back to reality. "Peter. _Peter_!"

Hot breaths escaping me in a frenzy, lungs refusing to take in air, my entire body shuddering involuntary, I submitted myself to my brother's embrace. The half-healed cuts on my back stung as my brother vigorously rubbed my back. But their pain was forgotten in the much greater agony I wished I had never discovered. The soul-wrecking pain, the grief and mourn of loss, the horrible knowledge that it was irreversible. The weight of guilt forced upon my shoulders, pushing me down, wearing me out. I had not suffered this grief many times before, and this, this one loss was kindling the same pain in me, but profounder. An abyss carved into my chest. I wished I could discern it. But I could only weep, soaking my brother's shoulder. _Dear Aslan, when_ _did_ I _become the one in need of comfort_? Feeling piteous, I suddenly drew back, stroking the tears out of my eyes, dishevelling the mop of my hair with a strenuous shake of my head. I could feel the pain subside again, shoved back into the deep void it had risen from unwelcomed.

Then, solemnly, I smiled at my brother, causing him to frown in concern. But I only nudged him forward, stifling the sobs that had remained after the tears. I cleared my throat as I prodded him in the side, urging him to start moving. But his frown became acuter, and he put a steadying hand on my shoulder, knowing, before me, that I was about to stumble on my wobbly legs.

"Peter?" I shook his hand away, and was instantly missing his touch. "Pete, you're tired, you're overwhelmed; you need to rest. Just go back to bed. Susan is probably already searching all over for you. Let's just—"

"No," I demurred politely at first. But seeing him extend his hand towards me again, I snapped, "No, Ed! You don't understand!" My voice shook. "And how can you, when I don't understand it myself? I just want to help my friend out of the imprisonment he doesn't deserve. Then, perhaps, I will consider resting."

I grabbed his arm and reeled him forwards, ignoring the irate look he shot me.

Before we had taken two steps, I bumped directly into the King of Galma.

.

.

"Oh!" said he, poising himself. "I apologise, kind sir. My mind was elsewhere and—"

And as his voice became more familiar and recognisable by the second, his forehead creased, and he scrutinised me for a short moment before letting out a short and sheepish gasp. "Oh, by the Lion, you are—you are the Kings of Narnia!" he exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment.

Edmund nodded and offered the king his hand. The king shook it. "I don't believe we've met properly, however," Edmund was saying, but I was still trying to place the king's voice. An elbow digging into my ribs caused me to blink. "And this is my brother," Edmund said, giving me a look. "High King Peter."

I smiled and shook his hand.

And then, at the touch, an epiphany struck me. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "It's you! Sir, don't you recall? It is I!"

The king gaped and Edmund blinked twice. King Amir brushed his excessively long and grey hair out of his eyes and batted his eyelashes curiously. "Oh, you do sound much like the kind young man from the cell next to mine! But he said he was a shepherd," Amir said thoughtfully.

Edmund's brows went up in a curious fashion, his amused eyes delicately shooting me a quizzing glance. I shrugged playfully and turned to King Amir once more. "I must apologise for that lie, sir, my Lord. I was not sure of the nature of our acquaintance, and revealing my kingship, I had surmised, could hardly be a wise choice then. But perhaps we could start afresh." I bowed courteously, and Edmund, on cue, bowed along with me. King Amir smiled in a stately manner and returned the warming gesture. "I am Peter, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands." Smiling at my brother, I added, "And this is my little brother, Edmund."

Edmund scowled at me, but his lips gave an endearing smile when he turned to King Amir. "The _little_ brother also happens to have some titles following his name," he defended his dignity.

Amir laughed. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "It is you! You—the one to sit on the hedgehog, then! Your brother's story had me laughing even hours later!"

Edmund's cheeks gained a profuse pink colour. "Yes, well, it is one of the incidents I had wished never to hear of again. But, alas, with a brother like mine . . ." He sighed dramatically.

I rolled my eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. He frowned childishly. "Your Majesty," I said to Amir, "are you going to retire for the night?"

Amir opened his mouth but a different voice answered me. "No, I think, since His Majesty left his chambers unguarded."

I and Edmund turned around to see a group of men following Raviar, who seemed very unpleased and disappointed. Coming up beside us, he frowned, and Edmund visibly supressed laughs. "My King," he said, sternly, "if you were hungry, you could have—"

"I'm not hungry," King Amir said, some colour running to his cheeks. "I've been confined to a room for ten years. Fresh air was all I sought. But, by grace, I found the Kings of Narnia." He smiled at me. "And, in fact," he said, "the High King is the very young man that saved me from the abusive guards." Then he blinked. "Oh, your Majesty, have your wounds healed yet?"

I opened my mouth but Edmund's startled voice cut me off, "Wounds? What wounds? You're hurt?"

"Ed—"

But he was already giving me a thorough medical check-up, making me open my mouth, pulling down my eyelids. When he commanded me to hold up my arms, I reprimanded him, "Ed! I'm fine! And we've company."

Raviar and King Amir laughed and Edmund blushed for the second time that day. "Alright," he conceded. "But I'm telling Su."

"But she's going to fret and—" Edmund quirked an eyebrow. I sighed heavily. "Fine." Turning to King Amir, I said, "I and my brother must now excuse ourselves. I—I wished to see—see a friend."

But before I could turn, Edmund grabbed my arm. Smiling politely at King Amir, he said, "Raviar told me you're keen on history." Amir nodded silently. "Then you know of Narnia's rule over Galma before the tyrannical winter?" Amir nodded again, this time more hesitantly. Edmund laughed. "I'm not going to demand you surrender your kingship, sir. Galma, in its own rights, is an independent nation now, flourishing without our aid for years and years. Who are we, before the Lion, to say any differently? What I was going to suggest is that you, merely, must swear allegiance to the High King."

" _Must_?" Raviar asked harshly, stepping beside his king, as the other guards took their own positions behind Amir.

"Yes," my brother said confidently. "I'll help him draft the oath." He looked at Amir, very subtly inclining his head.

Amir smiled. "Very well then. I am meeting with Aviso and his daughter, Kyra, to discuss their duties as the Duke Chancellor and his heir soon. You may join us."

Raviar untensed.

"Actually," I said, "I'm afraid I can't come. But it should be fine; my brother is the one who handles foreign matters."

"And Queen Susan," added Edmund, giving me a look.

"And Susan, yes. But I don't think either of us is courageous enough to wake her. So, take him with you." I turned to Edmund. "I will meet you tomorrow. For the—the funeral. And the crowning and the oath-taking. For now, I must leave you."

Edmund's hand (which was still on my arm) squeezed mine and nodded with a small smile. I bowed to King Amir and turned to leave. I broke into a trot reaching the first turn. Behind me, I could hear laughter erupting.

Then Raviar said, "But first, my king, I think a haircut is in order."

I laughed.

* * *

The doorknob was cold against my skin and yet I could not ungrasp it, feeling the blood in my fingers freeze. At last, taking a deep breath, I turned the embellished knob. The loud creak sounded deafening to my ears. And I flinched when the room was finally visible.

It was peculiarly dark, with the blue-black curtains drawn, and the hearth filled with ashes of the fire that had died long ago. There was no sound except my own shallow breathing. I warily made my way to the blurry figure of the giant bed in the middle of the room. It wasn't empty, and my heart hammered dangerously. I faintly cleared my throat. The blankets moved. I swallowed hard, hurting my bruised throat. Giving myself a shake, I looked around, blinking against the blinding darkness. Then, quickly snatching the matches from the side table, I whirled around, and scurried to the hearth. Spilling some oil over the unburned logs, I lit a match, illuminating the room in a dim shine. I threw the match into the hearth and the flames rose instantly, the light spilling profusely over the marble, and shining beautifully against the wooden surface of the head of the bed.

I shifted my eyes to the princess sitting up on the bed, blinking blearily at me. Then, recognising me, she smiled grimly, and sat against the head, brushing her hair out of her face. I smiled back and drew open the curtains, subsequently pushing open the large window.

The wind felt heavenly against my sweaty skin, but I gripped the windowsill tightly until my knuckles blanched white.

"You're invading privacy, you know."

I chuckled softly and turned on my heels. "So are you," I told Kaios, whose large silhouette was standing in the doorway. He stepped in, making his face visible. As he sat in the armchair a good five feet away from the bed, I said, "I just wanted to see her."

"But you refuse to even look at her," Felana said and I watched as her hand brushed past her sister's familiarly silky and honeyed hair.

A tremulous sigh left me. "It makes it—"

"—too final?" Kaios said. I only nodded, gravely. Kaios stood, steady on his feet. Then grabbing my wrist, he began to lead me to the bed. To _her_. I struggled but he reassured me, "It's alright. Just come."

And I found myself staring down at her. Lifeless but still glowing, dark-gold curls spread delicately around her face. Her eyes were shut and I despaired over it. Her skin was ghostly pale, the stark contrast of her red lips lost definitely, the life faded and burnt away. Her dress was yellow, lighter than her hair, but sleeker. It was plain and sober. Not even a thread of embroidery. Excepting the swan perched on a stone in the lake, wings spread wide in anticipation of her freeing flight. I felt someone's hand on mine and then my fingers were wrapped around her wrist. There was no heartbeat, not even the faintest pressure of her blood against my skin. And then my thumb brushed past a cool, metal surface.

The world halted.

And I seized a hard gasp.

It was her ring.

The very one that would have still bound us in the sacred bond of life had I not been a widower. Was I, in that sense, fortunate then? Should I be joyed that she, in her death, had freed me? But how could I? When, now, my heart felt as if it had been permanently imprisoned, even though my body relieved, physically and abstractly.

As my mind broke free of my wanderings, I realised how intricately and with how much care the golden band had been forged. It was neither plain nor overly embellished. Decorated with carved roses and ruhls and topped by a small gemstone, crimson red, its corners darkened. On its right, I could hardly read the inscription written in the smallest font I had ever seen. My hands quivered as I lifted hers and pulled off the ring to let the light fall onto the cursive words. And in the next second, my face crumbled, and my knees buckled, throwing me roughly to the ground.

"Peter," Kaios's voice whispered softly and I felt his hand on my shoulder as I wept with rough sobs escaping me, letting the lingering and ignored grief leave me at last.

Tremulous breaths shook my whole body as I dared to glance at the words written on the ring again: _I wish I was good._

"Peter?" Felana whispered to me this time.

But I curled away from them, leaning on the bed, still crying, and not wishing the tears would stop. Because did I, after all, deserve harmony and peace of mind? Was I not worthy of only cruelty? _Her_ cruelty? Why did she have to show me love? Why did she have to reveal the truth to my unworthy ears? Why was I subject to this puzzling fate, this hint of relief, only to be swallowed by the atrocious guilt haunting me now? Shoving me to land precariously on the edge of the erratic sorrow and remorse?

Footsteps.

"Pete-" A short silence. "What happened?"

Slender and fair hands appeared before my face but I crawled away, only to be reeled back and taken into a strong grasp. I twisted to face her and then promptly buried my face into her shoulder, weeping, _weeping,_ weeping—why? _Why_?

"What happened?" my sister asked Kaios, tightening her grip on me.

"I don't know—I—" His voice trailed off, thick with tears, and the last of my control snapped when I remembered the much greater love he harboured for her, the much greater grief.

"Pete?" I opened my trembling hand and with a small sob, she took the ring from me. "Oh, Peter, this is—"

"I just—I want to apologise. I am sorry, Su. I am _so_ sorry I-I said those things. But she can't-can't—"

"It's alright," said Felana's voice and I gazed up at her. She was smiling down at her sister, as if she was only asleep. Abruptly she looked at me. "She forgave you."

"Yes," Kaios assured, nodding at me.

But I only wept into my sister's shoulder.


	32. Chapter 32

**Peter**

When all was said and done, and the tears dried in my eyes, Susan put a steadying arm around my waist and gently pulled me to my feet. Kaios and Felana (rising from the bed) bid us adieu as we stepped outside the room. Trekking slowly through the corridor, I hissed at the pain shooting from the small circular cut that had formed on my palm from crushing the ring into my skin.

Susan, frowning at my agonised face, snatched my right hand, and repressed a gasp. Shaking her head, she pulled out her handkerchief, smoothened it, and wrapped it around my bleeding hand, cringing slightly.

When she tied the knot, I smiled at her, "Thank you, Su."

"You're welcome," she said, grinning back. Taking me by the arm to lead me forward, she said, "Really, Pete, I'd never thought I'd live to see this day."

"Whatever do you mean?" I said, more than befuddled by her declaration.

She just shook her head, giggling softly.

"Nothing."

I didn't believe her.

* * *

"Peter!" hollered my brother's voice. A second later, he appeared through the doorway, panting from the lack of breath. "I heard you were hurt," he said, blinking at me, who was absolutely healthy, and made cheerful by my sisters.

Then, Lucy giggled on the bed as Susan reprimanded him for running in the hallway. He rebuffed the chides with some scoffs and countering remarks of his own, to which Susan impersonated our mother and put her hands on her hips, scowling.

Edmund ended up laughing and frantically waved his hand to dismiss the matter. Susan obliged, albeit with many more glowers. Edmund sat in the armchair he'd previously occupied when dawn hadn't broken through the sky, when my heart had been much lighter.

I sighed.

"What happened? Why's your hand bandaged?" Edmund asked, looking from Lucy to Susan to me.

Susan came up beside me and put a ginger hand on my shoulder. "He went to see Selene."

An almost palpable grimness enveloped us at her mere mention, rendering even Lucy without a smile tearing brightly through her face. Edmund sat up in his chair. "And?"

"And it was hard," I said quickly, indicating I did not wish to discuss the matter any further. My siblings meticulously frowned at me. "So, Ed, what took you so long? It's been hours."

Edmund shrugged his shoulders. "The negotiations. Raviar wouldn't let King Amir compromise even in the slightest. I suggested, merely, that they allow us governance of trade in the southern provinces in return for military aid to deal with their eastern provinces and internal riots. Amir was in the middle of bluntly agreeing with me when Raviar pulled him away. When the king came back, he refused to negotiate on terms of administration. I insisted and they brought in Srif."

I smiled and our sisters laughed beautifully when he gave us a long eye-roll, huffing exasperatedly.

"That man's father just died, Peter! You'd think his smugness would've diminished by at least a margin! But _no_ ," he dragged out the word, "he just has to be that— _that_ wonderfully sarcastic!"

Lucy shot us all a horrified look. "Edmund!" she gasped. "You can't be envious of him?"

Ed sighed. "Not envious of him particularly. Just the way he can make even his complacence and condescendence enjoyable. It's maddening, by the Mane!"

Susan gave a mock _tsk_ and tousled his hair as he frowned lopsidedly. "Anyway," he continued with a drawn-out sigh. "We at last arrived at some conclusions and Amir is going to pledge full allegiance to you," he said to me.

"To us," I corrected.

"No, Pete, to _you_. He trusts you and knows you better than any of us. He refused to let the fate of his country fall into our hands." Then he smiled gravely. "And if he and both his heirs die, leaving Galma without a ruler, you will be crowned as Galma's High King."

I shook my head. "Wait," I said, drawing my siblings' eyes to me. "Amir doesn't have children, does he? He doesn't _have_ heirs."

"Yes, he does," Edmund said, beaming. "Tomorrow, he will declare Srif and Felana as his heirs." I was left agape. He laughed. "That's not all. Aviso shall be Duke Chancellor, and Kaios the general of the army."

"That's a lot of changes in so less time," observed Susan placidly. "Are we sure the people will simply accept it? What of the riots you mentioned? What if they take flair?"

"No," Edmund said, beginning to rock back and forth in his armchair. "Tromin was an oppressive king. It was because of his unfavourable policies that the people were rebelling. Once everything is sorted and equilibrium is brought, King Amir will ensure welfare and progress of his people, and he has asked for our help in that. Which is why," he continued, "we must give a push to our productions in the west and north. Galma will need much aid to begin to flourish again."

Lucy clapped her hands. "Does this mean I get to visit the fields again? Please!"

"Of course, Lu," I said, outstretching my arm to invite her to sit in my lap. She did and I slumped, feigning pain. "Oh, Lucy, you're heavy! How much weight did you gain this summer alone!"

The other two laughed and Lucy swatted my arm. Then she smiled and nuzzled into my shoulder. "Bottlehead."

"That's my line!" Edmund protested, rising.

"Not anymore," Susan replied, giggling.

I smiled lopsidedly at him and encouraged a drowsy Lucy to go to sleep.

Edmund sighed. "So, anyway, I have to go oversee our army's departure to Hiekā. No, Orieus isn't going with them. He insisted Kivus and Trivel and Sinon will lead the procession perfectly, and that we were in need of protection still. He made two bears and Lord Aristeus stay behind. As well as Vo and Vella. And even the tiger sisters!"

"That does sound like Orieus," I said, grinning.

"And Sybil is back from the northern port, he and I need to discuss much. And there's so much to do for the funeral"—I flinched and Edmund, noticing, grimaced in concern— "and the coronation ceremony. Not to mention Raviar and his men are striving to find the woman who"—he looked at me and I nodded— "killed Selene—"

"And almost killed you," Susan said with undisguised contempt.

"Yes," Edmund admitted. "That was close."

I, supressing the horrible memory of my pallid brother light as air in my arms, picked Lucy up. She mumbled but promptly fell asleep again. I, smiling, laid her down on the enormous bed and kissed the crown of her head. I said, "She looks exhausted."

"The battle wore her out," Susan confirmed. "I don't doubt she'll sleep through the afternoon."

"Doesn't matter," said Edmund, flinging on his green doublet and combing his hair with his fingers. "I have to go now. Much to do."

But Susan grabbed his arm, halting him. "Don't you work yourself out, Ed. There are many others that can handle all this. You needn't—"

"But there _aren't_ others," he said and I frowned, looking up from my sleeping sister. "It's a task that's to be done and I shall do it."

He began towards the door again. Before he left, he said, "And you better find my sword, Pete."

I dropped my head with a sigh. _That should be easy._

* * *

Kaios did not attend the funeral.

So my sister told me. I, myself, could not gather enough will and strength to watch her burn beside her traitorous father and her uncle. I had only sat beside my youngest sister, pondering on the grief still bubbling inside me, wondering how long it would take for me to rise above it. Additionally, Susan told me she had had to hold Felana throughout the whole ordeal. She hadn't minded, she'd said with a shrug. Srif's speech had been heart-melting, and Leoma's whispers to Selene's body had been both terrifying and comforting. But other than that, nothing notable had occurred during the sorrowful time.

And presently my sister had been left with a sobbing heap of an older brother. But once I'd cried out again, my burdens seemed to have lifted.

I had smiled and laughed and felt freer than I had in long, beaming, and greeting the soldiers cheerfully. Once, I'd bumped into Gerulf, and had promptly given him a hearty embrace.

"Thank you, Gerulf. My brother told me you were of great help to him."

He had flushed. "You're welcome, your Majesty. But now, I must go, all the guards are to gather in the courtyard when the king bestows his blessings upon us."

I had nodded and he raced away.

That was a simpler time. Now, I, standing in front of King Amir (he had cut his hair), inexplicably uncomfortable in the ridiculously heavy cloak my brother had thrown upon my shoulders forcefully, I did not know how to act properly at such a portentous time. Grimacing internally in the pain in my shoulders from bearing the cloak that long, I forced myself to bring a smile to my face when Aviso stepped forward, holding the ancient book I recognised from the time he had married Selene and me.

_Aslan, it feels as if an eternity has passed in such short time._

Aviso urged King Amir to put his hand over it and repeat the oath after him, but my brother intervened, appearing through the shadows of the large audience hall.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I must insist you take, instead, Aslan's plaque, forged by the best dwarf smiths in Narnia."

And he walked up the steps, holding out the plaque I had never seen brought out of the treasury. I blinked at him but he, deliberately ignoring my incredulous face, replaced the book laid in Aviso's hand with the golden plaque. Aviso almost stumbled under its sheer weight. Gaining some composure, he frowned at the plaque, weighing it in his hand.

It was very heavy, seeing it was made out of pure gold. I remember the day after the battle at Beruna, the dwarfs had begun crafting it; to forever relish the memory of Aslan's glorious resurrection they had made this plaque, pouring their heart out into it. Sadly, the Lion had left before he could be presented with the beautiful gift. And though I had no doubt he'd seen and cherished it, the dwarfs had decided to present it to us instead. And we had been more than happy to accept it. Ed ran his hand over it and I eagerly squinted at it and smiled to read the words carved onto it with upmost delicacy and skill: _In the morning, rose He once more, and knelt the Lady Death before His eternal shine._

I felt tears tingle in my eyes. Ed, that sod, always the one to make me cry at the most inappropriate times. He smirked and prodded my side and I, smiling back, wiped my eyes hastily.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," Aviso said, "but I do not think we can use it. Aslan is—"

"—the great Lion who saved my mother's life," interrupted Amir keenly. "It is imperative that we honour Him now, when we swear allegiance to his kingdom."

"But what of _our_ gods?" asked Aviso, slightly concerned.

King Amir took a curious look at the book he held, the front cover depicting the goddess Phaira's illustration. "I do not know of these gods, Aviso. Only in the past decade, my brother, who was keen on historic legends, pulled these out and circulated beliefs and devotion for the fantastical figures."

"But they're respected and bowed before and—"

"I did not say they would be dishonoured. We will pledge before them, too. Now, the plaque."

And Aviso held the gold plaque out, allowing King Amir to place his hand on it and say repeat the following oath after Edmund:

"On this solemn day of Greenroof, I, Amir, King of Galma and Lord of Fiemàn, swear and pledge, in the honourable name of Aslan the Great Lion, and before the god Revir, Lord of Justice, my full and complete allegiance to Peter High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands. I pledge my unwavering loyalty, fealty, and fidelity to the High King. Must the need arise, I swear to aid the Kingdom of Narnia in the time of war with a portion of armies; and in the time of potential threat, I swear to protect Narnia. During a famine, I swear to aid her with the requiring produce of my fields, during a drought with water; and during a crisis in trade I swear to aid her with a reasonable reduce in prices of the trade goods. And if, by some great tragedy, should my kingdom be left with no king nor heirs, I, on behalf of my ministers, swear the kingship of Galma to the High King Peter. This sacred oath I and my heirs shall uphold to my dying day, otherwise may Aslan's roar shake the earth beneath me and the heavens strike upon me."

"That was it," Edmund said, "now you must only sign the paper for political purposes."

But Amir knelt before me, and I, bemused, stood still as he took my hand and brought it to his lips. Instantly, I felt my cheeks burn hotly and ducked my head. Amir stood and I received another nudge from Edmund, who was grinning lopsidedly, pleased to see me so embarrassed.

"Now 'Tis done," Amir said.

The crowd in the hall cheered.

And the celebrations began.

* * *

Even though the food and music were absolutely delightful, the air was grim, and the people rarely smiled, for the day was one of loss and not only gain.

I was standing near the dais with a glass of grape wine, surrounded by the tiger sisters Brie and Bell, hissing dangerously at any passers, causing them to flinch and hurry away.

"Shush," I said to them and their ears dropped and pasted to the sides of their heads. "They're all friends. You know that."

"We thought Tromin was a friend," Brie purred softly as her sister bared her teeth to emphasise.

"King Tromin's, was a different case. Now, they've sworn their allegiance to us. They will not betray Narnia, I promise."

Bell closed her mouth and nuzzled my feet. "We believe you, King Peter."

I nodded and the sisters walked in a circle around me before sitting down comfortably next to my feet, observing the celebrations silently.

It was then that Lucy came rushing through the crowd, well-rested, and practically bristling with energy. Her emergence was followed by Orieus's vaguely shouting voice saying, "You mustn't run!" I laughed and she grabbed my hands and pulled me forwards, rousing the tigresses.

"Lu! What are you doing?" I asked.

"Oh, but can't we dance, Peter? I know you're sad, I am too, but dancing can cheer you up! Please?" she whined, already bringing us into a dance position in front of the dais on which the musicians sat.

"Alright, alright," I agreed softly.

And as Brie and Bell settled down again, we began the dance.

Our feet were synced and I flung her around my arms with ease, enjoying very much. But I kept a watchful eye on the celebrations, spotting Kaios drinking with Gerulf and Srif and Sera, Felana talking tearfully with Susan (guarded by Orieus and the leopard sisters, Vo and Vella), King Amir enjoying wine with Raviar and Aviso, Kyra and Leoma feasting on one corner table. I found even Ovin and Mevisa spilling wine onto each other. But I failed to find my brother. I turned Lucy around frenziedly and she yelped, giggling subsequently. My eyes travelled from one corner to the other but Edmund was nowhere to be seen. Feeling the panic rise, I stopped the dance and kissed Lucy's hand, knowing she never appreciated when Edmund and I didn't act like proper gentlemen at official parties. Her cheeks reddened and she curtsied.

I bowed back and then asked frantically, "Have you seen Ed?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "He was at the"—she turned to the eastern corner and I followed her eyes but Edmund wasn't there— "buffet?" She frowned. "He was there, I'm sure." She looked around. "Maybe—" She froze and then beamed. "There!" She pointed at the exit.

I whipped around frantically, only to see my brother racing to the staircase in the adjacent corridor, quickly disappearing from view.

"Ed! _Edmund_!" I bellowed, running after him, Brie and Bell pacing on either side of me. Confused eyes turned in my direction.

"Pete!" Lucy yelled behind me, but I only faintly heard her, already ascending up the staircase.

I could hear my brother's steps, partly lost in the tigresses' growls. They jumped up the steps, leaping, their footfalls absolutely silent. When we reached the top, I was surprised to find the dimming sunlight spilling in through the door flinging to and fro. I opened it further and entered through it to find we'd reached the roof.

In the rush, I had not realised the exertion I was putting myself through, but now as that became evident, my lungs ached, and I was panting, wishing I could simply lie down prone on the ground.

But Bell's alarmed voice broke me out, "Sire! Over there! There!"

I raised my head and was left utterly confused.

Edmund had his hand outstretched in front of him, reaching for a blurry figure standing on the ledge, glossy black hair dancing in the wind behind her, the gown soaring, fluttering and flapping loudly, hands raised on either side for support. I could see her bare foot resting half-half over the edge. She was ready to jump. And Edmund, who was now talking in low tones, must have seen her. And as I prepared to cautiously take steps forward, Brie and Bell leaped forward, landing silently beside a startled Edmund. He shrieked.

The lady on the ledge flinched violently and gave a yelp.

Edmund shushed the tigresses and they crouched down, staying close to him. I took wary and small steps forward as Edmund said, "Please, lady, come down from there. I promise, promise no one will hurt you."

"Ed," I whispered, beside him now.

He spared me a glance and said to the lady, "Please"

"No!" she said, whirling around, just barely balancing herself on the edge. I and Ed held our breaths. And as her face became visible under the moonlight, I squinted, blinking, trying to recall where I had seen her. And then it struck me.

"Zar?"

"Oh, oh, _no_ ," she said brokenly. "You weren't—you weren't supposed to witness this! Please, please, my lord, take off. Go now!"

She took a step back.

Edmund and I froze. Even Brie and Bell stopped breathing. "Lady," Edmund said. " _Zar_. Please. Come down. I know the fear is great, the guilt even greater, but a four-hundred feet fall will not help you."

"But-but I—" She shook her head, tears sprinkling. "I tried to kill you! I hurt you, I—I hurt her! Killed her and—I don't regret it! No! I—she deserved it!"

My world dropped. And in another instant, anger was coursing like wildfire through my veins. I took a step forward, seeing only red, and not her weeping face. The sisters growled and I felt them walk beside me. "You—you killed her?" I thought I saw her nod very slightly. I would've taken another step but Edmund's hand on my shoulder calmed me immediately, freezing me in my place. I shook my head, feeling the anger subside, and the agony rise steadily. " _Why_?"

"She was going to kill me!" she screamed in the wind. And I opened my eyes wider, the memory dawning on me. "I was angry, irrationally angry. But she had to go for good!"

"Lady Zar," my brother said very softly. "Just step down and we will see that no one will hurt you. I promise it to you."

"But they'll imprison me!" She swallowed. "Why couldn't you just die?"

I clenched my fists. Now she was wishing my brother dead? But I calmed myself. "Lady, for what you did, you shall suffer the consequences, but I can promise it will not be as bad as the fall will be. You might not die. Can you imagine the pain you will suffer, lying there, half-broken, unable to breathe? Come down."

Edmund squeezed my arm and continued speaking to Zar's shivering form. "My brother speaks the truth. It will not be a pleasant feeling."

She shook her head and slipped backwards, causing Brie and Bell to jump up. They stood rigid, as Zar slid back again. "Zar!" I said. "Don't!"

"I don't care. I don't. It won't—won't hurt," she mumbled to herself.

"Lady!" Edmund screamed over the viscously flowing wind.

The door flung open again.

Brie and Bell leaped.

Zar jumped.

And two screams tore the air.


	33. Chapter 33

**Peter**

Edmund screamed. Lucy screamed. Brie and Bell caught naught. And I was left rooted to the ground, uncomprehending. But in another moment, regaining my senses, I ran to the ledge and leaned over it, searching the air for her.

A whoosh of wind caused me to fall backwards. Beating wings roared in the air and I lifted my head, and was left perplexed. It was Tvar, soaring above us gracefully, and carrying—oh, _carrying—_ a struggling bundle held securely in Tvar's arms (he was the boy).

Lucy choked on a sob and then promptly burst into trembling laughs, extremely relieved. Edmund whispered thanks to the Lion, but I only watched the boy who was sitting comfortably on the griffin—smirking amusedly.

His grin widened. "Never thought I'd _literally_ catch someone."

I smiled back and noticed another silhouette sitting behind him. Brie and Bell stood down as Tvar landed on the roof and immediately I recognised the figure behind Tvar. She jumped off as a still-struggling Zar was taken out of Tvar's hands. He slid off the griffin as well and watched as Zar thrashed and screamed, being escorted away by Raviar's men.

Lucy shot me a quizzing look, then promptly sighed, and rushed after Zar as they disappeared into the darkness of the stairway.

"Lu—" I began.

But Edmund interrupted, "Let her go. I think she can help."

I nodded reluctantly and then remembered. I whirled around and she was already holding Alvera up, laid on both her palms, gleaming proudly.

Edmund jumped and beamed. "My sword!"

He, very discourteously, snatched the sword from her, making Tvar giggle. Even Tvar the Griffin snorted, but I could have just as well imagined it. When Edmund was finished with experimenting a few swift slashes with his sword, I cleared my throat, catching his attention, and introduced Razia, "She is Razia, Edmund, and you may thank her now for keeping Alvera safe."

"Yes, yes, Milady, thank you very much." He bowed.

Razia flushed. "Your Majesties." She bowed her head and said to me, "Oh, my King, how can I ever thank you? I heard what they did—I—"

Giving her a gentle smile, I said, "You don't _have_ to thank me, Razia. I was only doing what was right, doing my duty, for you were under my care."

She nodded, blushing fiercely again. I laughed and turned to Tvar. "I thought they'd left you in Hiekā."

"No," Edmund said. "Apparently Tvar the Griffin is untameable without Tvar the Boy."

"I see," I said. "And where did you find Razia?" I asked Tvar.

"She was running towards the castle when we flew over her. So, I brought her with," he replied and Razia nodded.

"Very well then. Brie and Bell will escort you back to the castle. Eat and rest well." I nodded at the tigresses and they jumped up, ready to race down the stairs. "Go now, and I hope you can catch them."

I smirked and Brie and Bell leaped off into the darkness.

Tvar groaned.

* * *

"Are you fine?" I asked my brother, who was yawning after every word as he talked to Sybil who was standing behind us with the other guards.

He blinked at me with tired eyes and nodded. "Fine, yes." He yawned. "I didn't sleep last night is all." Another long yawn escaped him.

"But why didn't you?" I asked.

Susan subtly smacked Edmund's arm and Lucy's giggles echoed from beside me. "I told you not to wear yourself out!" she whispered under her breath, reproachfully, keeping her head down as the trumpets went off.

"You are an ignorant child who's incapable of taking orders," she continued, stepping on our brother's foot. He yanked back his foot, causing Susan to stumble. Lucy giggled again but I was horrified at my sister's murderous look and proud of my brother's valour against her at the same time.

"Peter," Lucy hissed quietly. I leaned down, and away from Susan's tangible burning fury. Lu snickered again. "You're not wearing your crown," she said when the trumpets were silent and the king appeared through the large, iron gate.

I rolled my eyes and trilled my lips. "Well, _forgive me_ for forgetting to wear it when I got kidnapped! _You_ should've remembered to bring it with you!"

She bit her lip and then smiled at the procession of servants that passed by us, spreading flowers on the king's path. The air was sweet and the grey morning was lit just barely by the sun's dawning shine. The trees were swaying, the leaves and grass lashing to and fro, the wind chilly and wet, blowing at a comforting pace. It was an ideal morning, and because of the very reason, Lucy had insisted not to be confined into the castle on the very beautiful day. And as a result, we stood out here now, waiting for the king to bid us farewell, as we took off for Fiemàn, and from there, back to Narnia, to sweet, _sweet_ home. Oh, how I missed my country, her air, her soil, her fragrance, her people.

I looked around and smiled at the peace the wind and the soothing light was giving me. And so dissolved was I in the pleasure that I did not notice King Amir until he greeted Susan, standing nearest to the castle. Edmund was frowning at her, so I gave him a nudge. He was still frowning. I sighed. Then, Susan and Amir both curtsied and he left her with a kiss to her hand. Edmund gave him an endearing bow and then they talked for some seconds before at last Amir turned to me.

I bowed. "King Amir, good sir, my Lord, I am delighted to have met you."

"As am I," he said and bowed as well. "I hope to visit Narnia soon."

"I hope you do, too."

He nodded and turned to Lucy and I was faced with the next person in line, Kaios. I smiled at him, and he pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. With a blushing smile, he said, "They made me general."

"I heard so," I said, smiling, genuinely proud of my friend. Then grimness overtook me. "Thank you, Kaios, for all that you did for me, and I am sorry for all that I did to you. I hope you can forgive me one day," I said, voice thickening.

" _You_ did nothing. The one to hurt me was Zar, and she's been put to justice. Please, now, stop acting so awkwardly," he said, grinning.

I gave a watery laugh and caught him into a hug. "Thank you, thank you very much, friend."

He chuckled and said, "Friends don't _need_ to say thank you."

"Ahem," I heard my brother cough and released Kaios. He nodded solemnly and moved on to Lucy.

Wiping my eyes, I said to my brother, "What?"

"Srif," he breathed, alarmed. I turned to see the prince talking with Orieus, making him, _our general,_ flush red. My eyes widened. It seemed Edmund had a good reason to be envious of him after all. My brother took a step back. "Tell him I died. _Please_ tell him I died."

And as I blinked, he vanished into the crowd.

I looked around frantically for him but he was gone. "Ed. How does he _do_ that?"

And then I watched Srif saunter over to Susan and take her hand into his. "My lady—"

"Oh, no, no, you don't," I said, snatching my sister away from him. "Susan, you can talk to Felana," I said to my sister who was blinking at me, but then with a small frown shot at me, she turned to greet the princess waiting eagerly to talk with her. I pulled Srif in front of me and said, " _You_ stay away from my sisters."

"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands. "But I did want to embarrass your brother again." He looked around and then grinned in an almost menacing manner. "There he is. Oh, don't run now."

He _tsked_ and ambled off into the crowd. I turned and caught just a glimpse of Srif before he disappeared too.

I blinked.

Lucy pulled me down by my arm and whispered, "Don't tell anyone but I think Edmund isn't jealous of the prince. He's—"

"—afraid of him!" I realised. "Oh, Lu, we're inviting Srif to every party Susan organises from now on." I chuckled.

"I don't think that's a good idea," an old voice said and I raised my head.

"Aviso," I said. "I mean, Duke Chancellor." And I bowed.

He groaned. "It's been tedious, High King. The burden, the duties, the attention."

"It'll get better," I assured. He sighed.

"We all hope for it."

We shook hands before he moved on.

And as soon as he was gone, I stumbled under the weight of Felana, her arms wrapped around my neck in an almost choking hold. But I hugged her back, breathing heavily. When she pulled away, her eyes were watery, and her cheeks red. I smiled and gingerly touched her left cheek. The cut had left a scar as I had anticipated. She let out a small, tremulous laugh, and pushed down my hand.

"It's alright," she said. "It doesn't bother me. I don't deserve to be beautiful as my sister anyway."

I quelled my tears, heart getting heavier. "I am _so_ sorry, Felana, Fey. You've lost so much and—"

"I have a new family now," she said, glancing at King Amir, now talking with the ministers Sybil had brought along the previous morning. "He's a great father." Then she chuckled. "Though even I have a hard time believing it, Srif is a great brother, too. I love them both. And I will always have Kaios," she said, looking at him, conversing with Orieus, probably asking for advice now that he was the general of the army.

I nodded and she placed a light kiss on my cheek before walking to Lucy's side. I sniffed and greeted the next of the royal family's members.

And an hour later, with a scowling younger brother (who, for the days to come, would not stop going on about his plans to completely destroy Srif's reputation), and two laughing sisters (with Susan inexplicably delighted to see Felana happy, and Lucy still blushing from the kiss on the cheek Kaios had left her), we began towards home.

* * *

_(A day later)_

The sea was ghost-quiet, except for the silent burbling of water against the hull. The sails cracked in the wind, and I, immersed in thought, leant over the railing, and listened to the silence, watching the sea turn silver under the moon, still pondering on all that had passed, and all that must follow now.

"Pete?"

I turned slowly to see my brother sauntering towards me on soundless steps. "Yes, Ed?"

I turned back to sea when he came up beside me. "Are you alright?"

"Very much. What are you doing here?" I asked, turning to him again.

He laughed softly. "I've been eluding Susan for twenty-four hours. She still hasn't calmed."

"Well, you have to see her sometime. I suggest you accept your fate and bear the anger now," I advised gently and he sighed.

"Fine," he relented. But before he went, he pulled out something, fluttering in the wind rapidly. I squinted at it. It seemed to be a letter.

"Ed?"

"You _forgot_ , you idiot," he said, passing the letter to me.

I blinked and he was gone, instantaneously. I shook my head, laughing, and turned my attention to the letter. Slowly and deliberately, I ripped open the envelope and slid out the letter. My breath hitched when I saw my name written on it. Recognising the seal, I almost broke down. But I steeled myself and unfolded the letter.

As best as I could with my tear-filled eyes, I began reading:

 _It is a fervent wish that leaves my lips now as my hand runs over the paper, spreading the ink, writing to you, when you are asleep soundly in my bed, across from me, exhausted and toiled by the mental turmoil and the maelstrom of emotions I put you through tonight. The wish I mentioned is perhaps not as strong as the hatred you bear for me now, but it holds just as much devotion. I wish, Peter, that you just_ knew _. It is not hard, to lose oneself to the force of love, and I have, indeed, lost myself—my very soul—to a man who was snatched from me, and I will admit the great sorrow I refused to melt in the form of shed tears. But I have not told you, have I, the reason I met him, was drawn to the lusty golden hair that he wore over his head, the rigid muscles, and the lithe form. It was because, I, juvenile and naïve then, mistook him for you. Yes, you._

 _And I was disappointed when, as it unfolded, he was not a king, or the young boy I had seen from the window of my solitary chambers. I had seen then, the prophesised king I was forbidden, the most pulchritudinous prize I could not grasp. But alas, it led me to a greater fate, to a man I could reach and know and feel. With him, the burden of the curse was lifted, and I could be, just_ be _, who I was when not vile. My sheer crudity that you witnessed—I, yes, derived pleasure in it, but not with consent. Not if I could, in fact, drive away the malevolent wishes, the red that perpetually engulfed my vision. It was not my choice. And I suffered profoundly. So, in a succinct length, for I wish you to_ know _, I write this letter, briefing what the torture I was put through when the curse was subdued for the time being._

_When I was thirteen, the people of my land travelled to the castle to pay the new king homage. The time was supposed to be merry but after the disastrous deaths that had fallen upon us, happiness was not hoped for. When the curse consumed me, I was monstrous, and people who beheld me in my cruellest form, then implored politely the king, that I, his most beloved daughter be put away for good. I was a child then, Peter, and when the curse left me alone in my lush chambers, I pondered on their pleadings, discerning naught, but nevertheless reaching to a conclusion. They were not worthy and my life and my heart were my own. And on that account, my father was proud of me. He was a disdainful man who misled me and raised me to be a fiercer fiend than I was before, teaching me how to kill, how to torture, and how to, frankly, survive. I hated it fervently, and when sometimes I snuck to my siblings' comforting presence, he punished me by isolating me in my chambers._

_It was because of the anger that the loneliness created inside me, that the curse grew even stronger, and I committed my first sin. And I, ashamed and fearful of what the great heavens might do to me, sought to end the life I now realised was not worthy of living._

_But my sister, Felana, made me see the sinfulness of the deed I had thought of doing. For is it not true, that the life has been given to you by the force greater than yourself, bestowed upon you by a glorious god's endeavours? Who was I, a mere subject, to take what was given, to refuse what was gifted? Fey changed my mind, dwindling my firm will. Or so I had convinced myself. For I knew it was the fiend, the curse, that had won this round of the games we were playing._

_Alas, after that, after I turned fifteen, the curse was strengthened even further, devouring me wholly, causing me commit sins a young mind as mine should not have even be able to imagine. And I, after the curse left me, wept for all I did. And I repented, Peter. I repented by punishing myself in ways I care not to mention here now._

_But a year later, after Ikàso's death, even that wish, that one good will to atone for my sins also left me._

_I was truly villainous, subject to sheer insanity and mad desires. I didn't think I could be brought back._

_But I was proven wrong when my father expressed his desire to annex Narnia and I was given the chance to see you once more. I had prayed and only prayed that you be mine. But you were righteous and noble and I foul and defiled—of ill will._

_But tonight, watching you weep in your dreams, I know I have been most foolish. It is not your love that can free me of the curse, it is my own. My love that I had failed to see until now. But I do see now, and I promise you I will strive to fix all wrong my father has done, all wrong I have done. And I wish there was a way to free you of your bond too. That no longer would connect you to me, to the creature of sin._

_Perhaps the Lion—for I believe in Him now once more—will provide us a way. I kneel before Him as I know you do too._

_I love you._

_Selene_

.

.

Almost an hour later, after five thorough reads, and after the tears had been shed, I kissed the letter, folded it again, and slipped it into my pocket.

"Peter, Peter!" Lucy's voice called, carried from the cabins below. "Come quickly! Orieus is teaching Su to spar! And she's winning!"

I shook my head.

It was another thrilling adventure over, with Aslan paving our way, guiding us to the end, guarding us. And we, ever-faithful to the Lion, had followed His path, difficult it may be, without questions. I was taken through a journey of love, grief, sorrow, and exhilaration, and I will cherish the memories till my dying day. And now, I did not doubt many more such adventures awaited us, dangerous yet thrilling, set by the Lion's will; so why not, in the time we had to ourselves, enjoy and feel _life_ itself?

So, I wiped my eyes, smiled widely, and dashed to my siblings.


End file.
